The Significance of Unattended Bicycles

I thought I had learned not to trust this feeling, but here it comes again, ready or not, willing or not, benign or not.
We sat together at our own table with our vegetarian dinners and "Float On" was playing in the background, except you could only hear the bass line and the chords changing. I somehow manage to eat less than her, even though she's half my size. I had confessed to her why I like eating at this dining hall on Mondays, even when the vegetarian options aren't good, to see that girl for at least a few more seconds than I normally would. She lays her fork onto her plate and says, in a tone unpatronizing and even sweet, "You really like her, don't you?"
I've made a huge mistake. I've felt too much and done nothing, received nothing. If I was spartan, stoic, more scientific, more discerning, maybe I wouldn't have done this again, wouldn't see anything in where she leaves her bike. Now I'm at that awkward and self-defeating junction: Do I give up, sever all attachment and just think nothing of it anymore, or keep on this feeling, hoping something in it turns to boldness, words, actions perhaps?