go to college with me, you’d always be my...” He trails off, hesitancy written all over his face.
My head angles to the side. “What’s the matter?”
“I... It’s just that...” He struggles for words, which is super weird for him.
I mean, I once saw him give like a ten-minute speech about the pros and cons of asparagus. Not because he has some weird fetish with asparagus. It was for a speech class.
We had a really weird teacher.
When he continues to hesitate, I add, “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I can handle it. I swear.” Although, if he says something like he doesn’t want me to go to school with him, I might break apart on the inside. But that’s something I keep to myself. “I’m your best friend, so just tell me.”
He swallows audibly. “That’s just it. I... I don’t think I want you to be my best friend anymore.”
Okay, so I know I said I’d break apart internally, but it’s a lot more complicated to do when I actually have to do it.
He must see the crumbling on my face because he hurries and adds, “I worded that wrong. Shit, I’m messing this up.” He scoots closer to me until our knees touch. “What I meant to say is that I don’t want you to be just my best friend anymore.”
At the risk of looking like a complete dumbass, I ask, “I don’t... What do you want to be then?”
His lips part then shut. Then, muttering something under his breath, he starts to lean in.
At first, I'm confused.
But then it clicks.
He’s going to kiss me.
Wait... What?
I lean back. “What’re you doing?” I sputter, my heart racing inside my chest.
Not out of fear, though. No, my heart is pulsating out of excitement, which is kind of scary.
He pauses, and I expect him to crack a joke like typical Trystan would. But not a single drop of humor is in his eyes.
"I... I want to kiss you," he says softly with a huge lack of confidence.
Honestly, this side of him is so foreign to me that I almost question if he's been body-snatched or something. But our world is protected from those.
He swallows audibly again. “Haven, can you please say something? I’m... getting really nervous.”
He’s right. I do need to say something.
“Why?” I sputter.
His brows knit. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to kiss me?” And why do I have to sound so spazzy?
“I...” Puzzled amusement creases his features. “You’re asking me why I want to kiss you?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Honestly, I don’t expect him to answer my silly question, so I’m a little surprised when he does.
“Because you’re smart, beautiful, talented, and the bravest angel I know,” he says, nervousness creeping into his tone. “And because I love you.”
He's said those words to me before, but it was more in an I-love-my-best-friend sort of way. Right now, though, I think he means it in a very different way.
Silence stretches between us as my mind races with thoughts. I see all the moments we’ve spent together, starting with the day he saved me. As I reflect on every part of our history together, I realize that I do love him. That I have for a while but have been afraid to admit it.
Always afraid.
I could tell him that I love him, but as my mouth opens, all I say is, “You can kiss me.”
Not quite an I-love-you, but it's as close as I can get at the moment.
I expect him to hesitate, but he doesn’t. He leans in, moving slow, I think so I won’t panic. But my heart is panicking, a fluttering mess inside my chest. When our lips connect, though, all that panic dissipates. And for the first time in a long time, I feel it.
A calmness.
Like this is how things were supposed to be.
How could I not see it? Him—this—us, when it was right in front of me.
Because I was too afraid to see it. And if I don’t let go of that fear, I’m going to lose him.
I jerk back.
His eyelids flutter open, and panic flashes across his face. "What's wrong? Was it... Did you not like it?"
I promptly shake my head. "No, I did." I kiss him again, so he knows I mean it, then I spring to my feet. "There's just something I need to do right now."
I slip on a pair of shoes, then grab his hand, and rush out of the house, holding onto the confidence stirring inside me the best I can.