“Why do you always take a step back when I try to get close to you?”
My heart trembles at his words. His face, his whole body was so close to mine just a second ago, before I decided to put some distance between us.
Again.
My voice shakes when I answer him and I don’t know what comes over me when I say: “Because I’m afraid that I can’t hold back anymore.”
He looks puzzled, but I don’t give him any time to think about what I have just said as the words spill out of me:
“I’m afraid that I want to touch you. I’m afraid of the fact that I want you to touch me. I want to feel your hands wrapped around my waist and tangled in my hair. I want your lips pressed against mine.
I’m afraid that if I don’t step back, I will grab you by that stupidly handsome black shirt and kiss you until we are both out of breath.
You bring out all the deeply buried desires I have tried so desperately to hide from you since you bought me that annoyingly delicious chocolate cake from 5th Street.
I want to love you so badly it hurts.
But I’m afraid. Afraid of your reaction, afraid of you saying that this would be a mistake, that you already have someone else, or that you don’t see me in the same way.
That’s why I run away instead of facing you head-on. I’m a coward who bottles up her feelings to the point where it hurts to just look at you.”
Tears sting in the corners of my eyes and my chest heaves up and down from my outburst.
I glance at his figure standing a few feet away and, contrary to what I expected, I see a gentle smile dance across his lips as he looks at me.
He takes a big step forward, one arm finally settling around my waist and the other pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“Are you trying to say that you love me?”
My mind goes blank when I hear the sentence leave his mouth.
“I…” This time he is the one not giving me a chance to reply before he confesses in a low whisper: “Because I have loved you from the moment you stumbled through the door of that bookstore right into my arms.”
My eyes widen and I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I feel a pang in my chest and then a wonderful warm feeling spreads in my chest through my whole body.
He loves me.
Hot tears fall down my cheek and he wipes them away with his thumb, carefully and with such adoration in his expression that it takes my breath away.
“Will you grant me a wish and let me kiss you?”
Grant him a wish?
I crack a smile at the way he turns the tables and nod happily.
“Yes, gladly.”
. . .
Thank you for reading this post!^^
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See you next time!
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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