He said again, this time louder, maybe he thought I didn’t hear him the first time. If I looked up from my phone my eyes would betray me but he didn’t give me a choice snatching the phone out of my hand and throwing it on the couch.
“I said I love you.” The closer he stepped to me the further back I moved. What we had wasn’t supposed to be love. Love is messy and jealous and insecure and mean. I had love before, I cried because of love, fought because of love. I needed a break from love.
“You don’t love me Scott, you’re infatuated with me. We flirt, we text, I send you nudes and you write about me. Starbucks and iTunes and candy and material shit that’s nonbinding. What we have is fun and sexy and we don’t have to think about it, we just do it. Why bring love into that?! Love always messes shit up! Can’t we just stay in this infatuation stage?”
“Maybe we could stay in this stage if you weren’t so damn perfect! You call me even when I don’t call you just because you know I’ll answer the phone. You accept my randomness and I accept your quirks. You don’t think I notice how you pull away when the conversations turn serious or bite your lip when to fight screaming when it feels to good. I know you’re holding back but what choice do I have? Keep pretending I’m not falling in love with you… I can’t do that anymore.”
There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt in his eyes. What scared me the most is that I felt the same way but if love never looked out for me before then why would the bitch look out for me now?
To Be Continued…