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She knows that what she told him wasn’t enough.
He wants more. Craves it. Needs it to maybe (somehow) find a sense of closure later on.
He’s turning to leave when she stops him, hand on the door knob one second and off the next.
“I met a guy.”
They always say that the first line of a book is the most important. It’s what draws the readers in. Makes them want to read the rest of the story. She succeeded. She has him hooked.
“I met a guy at a bar. I met a guy who read literature. And traveled. And had great taste in music. I met a guy with curly brown hair, and eyes so blue I felt like I could swim in them. I met a guy, and made out with him on a bathroom counter…. I met a guy, and after meeting him one hour and twenty-seven minutes before, I was in love with him.”
Her eyes are wispy, glazed with far away memories. She still remembers it like it was yesterday. The smell of the air, the food she ordered, and the squeaking of the seats. How he smelled of scotch, cinamon, and sweat —something she’d only been able to define as him ever since that day.
Nothing had ever tasted sweeter.
“I walked into class two days later, and the guy from the bar, the guy I had written poetry about, the guy I was already in love with, was my new English teacher. He said we couldn’t do it. I said we could. Back and forth. A hug. Back and forth. A hallway. Back and forth. I loved him. Back and forth. We were wrong but so right. Back and forth. A kiss in the classroom. Back and forth. A secret brush of fingers. Back and forth. An I love you. Back and forth. A punch to the face. Back and forth. A kiss in the rain. Back and forth. I loved him every second.”
Maybe she’s paining him. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear anymore. But she doesn’t care.
“We ate takeout on his floor and watched old movies. We talked about our favorite books. He’d read to me. I’d read to him. He’d try to cook and nearly burn down his kitchen, and I'd almost always make it worse by trying to save it later.”
She can still remember the burnt smells that filled the air, later filled with the scent of the candles she had learned to pack just in case. Over time the candles were lit for everything, not just destroyed dinners. It made the place hers. It made it their home.
“We struggled. Up and down. On and off more frequently than a life switch. Brothers, mothers, ex-fiances, a son who really wasn’t, fathers, girlfriends, boyfriends. Everything came in between. Everything was another reason for us to end it. To give us up. But we couldn’t.
“I lied. Over and over. To keep him safe. To keep me safe. I cheated. Kissed another guy because I was frustrated. Regretted it. But he loved me anyways. Made a fool of myself more than once. Jealousy’s a powerful thing. He didn’t care. He loved me.”
Loved, loved, loved.
Loves?
“But he also lied. Lied to keep himself safe. To keep me safe. I hated him. But I loved him. Because I almost lost him and nothing had ever hurt more. I needed him. Like I needed air. The last time we ended was because I wanted to go away single. Experience the college life. He agreed. We were friends. But every time I was with him I wanted to kiss him. Pull him into my arms and have him tell me that he loved me.”
He had done that more times then she could remember. Sit her on his lap and hold her until she could breathe again. She would curl up in a ball, fitting all of herself on top of him and tuck herself in the crook of his neck. Hands would caress the tendrils of her hair. Lips would press into the top of her head.
“I thought I understood jealousy. I thought I’d experienced it before. And then I saw him with Nicole. An arm was around the couch, not quite touching but I knew what it meant. I’d been in that same position before. I saw it in her eyes. She was enchanted. By the sea of blue I had always thought of as mine. I wanted to rush in there; sit myself between them and tear her away from him. I then knew what it must’ve been like for him. To see me with Jake. Noel. Andrew. Jason. Any other guy I’d dated. I was hurt; for once he was the one moving on first. I hated it, because while I still had trouble falling asleep every night without him beside me, he was feeling something for someone new.”
How she felt that night was irrational. Defeated. She should’ve been the one on the other side of him, smiling at his words and bathing in his charm.
“But still, I loved him. And I- I thought that I was over it. My love for him a part of my past, something I could think of fondly later. But he’s- he’s Ezra.”
Ezra, Ezra, Ezra.
She sighs.
“I fell in love with my high school English teacher. I fell hard, fast, deeply, and everything in between. It was what kept me afloat on days that I felt like I was drowning. He was always there for me. Any time, any place. They say that the love you experience when you’re younger isn’t true. That you grow up and all the things you used to think were love fade away. That it was all an illusion of childhood adoration. But it wasn’t. It was real. More real than anything I’d ever experienced.”
The smile that ghosts over her lips is unconscious.
“I’ve loved him since the day I met him, and every day since.”
He doesn’t know what to say, instead choosing to sit himself on the couch.
“Were you happy with me?” he finally settles on.
“Of course.”
The answer is immediate, she doesn’t even need to think.
“I was really happy with you Liam. You’re one of the most normal things that’s ever happened to me.”
She seats himself next to him, taking his hand in hers.
“But I think that there’s a difference, between loving someone and loving what they bring with them. And I think that before I came back, I would’ve been able to live an amazing life with you. A content life. But now… now I wouldn’t. I’d compare you to him more than I have unconsciously. I’d think things that were unfair to you. Feel things. You’ve been something that I needed, to evaluate what I want in life. And maybe that’s unfair to you, but it’s the truth. Don’t think for a second, Liam, that I wasn’t happy with you. We both have some beautiful memories to look back on.”
He still looks confused, eyes marred with a haze of disbelief.
“Why?” he asks. “Why choose him, when he’s hurt you over and over again?”
The answer is simple. She’s never been able to love anyone the way she’s loves him. Five years gave her plenty of time to fall in love with someone new, and she did more than once. But nothing compared to what she felt when she was sixteen, standing in the pouring rain, anxiously waiting to see his car’s headlights make themselves known.
“When there’s a love triangle in books, there’s always two types of guys. The safe option, and the dangerous one. The safe guy provides everything the girl needs; love, adoration, and an endless amount of loyalty. Everything’s perfect when they’re together; nothing can ever go wrong.
“And then there’s the dangerous guy. Maybe they have a past, or maybe he’s so indescribably wrong for her, but something draws her to him anyways. He provides excitement. Uncertainty. Surprises. When she’s with him, she’s never able to tell whether or not they have a future, no matter how badly she may want one. He’ll break her heart, probably more than once, but she’ll break his too. They’ll scream, fight, kiss, make-up, fight again. But no matter what they do, they’ll always feel alive. It doesn’t matter if their heart is breaking so much that it feels like they can’t breathe, they feel it. They feel the break, and there’s… there’s nothing more addicting than feeling
everything
.”