him for an hour, and he explained to me that he struggled with alcoholism since before I was born and that he took off because he was a stupid drunk who cared more about alcohol than anything else. He also told me he never hated himself more than when he found out what I’d been through with my mom. After spending so much time hating myself, I told him I didn’t want him to feel that way. He could feel bad, but not hate himself. We ended our conversation with an awkward handshake and the promise to have dinner again whenever I’m ready. While I haven’t decided when that will be, I don’t feel like I have to rush the decision.
One step at a time, Beck is always telling me.
I don’t know what I’d do without him. And although I still fear that I might be forced to find that out one day, I try not to think about it too much, focusing on the moments I do get with him.
The wonderful, amazing, breath-free moments.
Moments I almost didn’t have because I was so scared.
But I’m not scared right now.
In fact, I’m really excited.
“It’s ten o’clock,” I announce as I enter his bedroom with my hands tucked behind my back. “And do you know what that means?”
He’s sitting in bed, staring at his laptop with his shirt off, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. I have the strongest urge to run over and touch him. And I will. But first, I need to give him something.
He glances up from his laptop, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he scans over my plaid shorts and tank top. “I thought I declared that the next pillow fight would be a naked one.”
“I know. And I plan on doing that in just a second.” I walk over to the bed. “I want to give you something first.”
He slides the laptop off his lap and scoots to the edge of the bed. “What is it?”
I keep my hands behind my back. “A present.”
“Really? Does it have lace and bows and show off that sexy belly ring of yours?” He grazes his knuckles across my waist, grinning when I shiver.
Yep, even after three months, I’m still shivering and blushing and getting all tingly whenever he touches me. That’s okay, though. The sensations are really nice when I’m not fighting him.
“Sorry, but it doesn’t have any lace.” I giggle as his lip juts out. “I promise it’s still a good present, though. At least, I think it is.”
“All right, let’s see what you’ve got,” he says, rubbing his hands together excitedly.
Grinning, I move my hand out from behind my back and hand him the piece of paper.
He instantly frowns.
“It’s a good list, I promise,” I try to reassure him.
All he does is press his lips together, refusing to take it.
Sighing, I sit down beside him and open up the piece of paper. Then I read aloud what I’ve wanted to tell him for years but have been too afraid to say.
“All the reasons that I love you:
Because you gave me the coolest snow globe ever.
Because you didn’t think I was a freak the first time you came to my house.
Because you hug me all the time.
Because you believe in me.
Because you’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met and will ever meet.
Because you make me feel safe even during the scariest times.
Because I can talk to you about sex and not blush … Well, sometimes, unless we’re talking about something really dirty.
Because you make me laugh.
Because you make me smile.
Because you knew to make me a list.
Because you refused to give up on me even when I fought so hard.
Because you’re my best friend.
Because you made me see myself for who I really am.
Because you still cared for me even when I showed you my worst.
Because you still wanted me even when I was at my worst.
Because you’re amazing, wonderful, kind, caring, sweet, funny, and a complete weirdo. But let’s face it, so am I.
Because you showed me how to love not just you, but myself.”
My voice is shaking with nerves by the end, and I quickly clear my throat. “I just wanted you to know all of that—to know how important you are to me.”
His expression is blank, and I wonder if maybe I got a little too lovey-dovey. But then he smiles, and suddenly, he’s cupping the back of my neck and bringing me in for a kiss. And just like that, the brief moment of worry flies away.
“I love you, too,” he whispers between kisses. “But you left off one thing.”
I pull back slightly to look him in the eye. “I did?”
He nods. “You forget to say that you love me because we have awesome naked pillow fights.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. But the humor vanishes as he grows serious again.
“I really do love you,” he says. “More than anything.”
“I know that,” I tell him before sealing my lips to his.
And it’s the truth. I do know he loves me. I have always known. I was just too afraid to admit it. Too afraid to accept. Too afraid of things I couldn’t control.
Too afraid.
Too afraid.
Too afraid.
I almost let fear ruin my life, almost let it control me. And I almost missed out on perfect moments like this one. Because, while life is filled with imperfections, perfection does exist in rare, beautiful moments. Rare, beautiful moments make life really worth living. And I’m glad I’m not so afraid of the bad anymore that I miss out on the good. In fact, I think I’m going to make that my number two rule in life, right after loving Beck.