Its not the kind of fairytale love you dream about when you’re a little girl, but it’s kind of magical in its own fucked up, we met because he dated my sister, I took his 22 year old virginity, our best moments happen when we’re deliriously drunk kind of way.
I’d never say that to him though. Instead I wait till I’m 6 drinks in sitting in his jeep outside my house to whisper I think I might love you quietly enough that he might not hear. But he does and he tells me he knows and I can’t tell if he really knows or he’s just trying to keep the moment light so I don’t take it back.
I try anyway.
I wake up the next morning next to him, hungover with those words on repeat in my mind. He rolls over and asks me if I remember last night and I know why. But I pretend not too. I let out a casual “most parts.” He drops it for the time being.
I notice throughout the day he does his best to casually bring it up. Dropping the word love in places it doesn’t belong. Until he can’t take it anymore and he finally asks.
“What you said last night….”
“That you think you might love me.”
I know he sees me tense up.
“Well do you?”
Every ounce of me wants to tell him yes, wants to finally let all the fear and insecurity go.
I manage an “I meant what I said.” And try to gage his reaction. He doesn’t say anything but just keeps his eyes on the road.
I think I see him smile.
I don’t know why it scares me so much for him to know but I turn away to look out the window and wonder if I’ll always be this afraid.