She loved him, but from a distance because she couldn’t place his intentions. His actions seemed in the right place. He was always there for her and he tried to make her happy. He even made her smile a genuine smile from time to time and that surprised her. But no matter how many times he showed up at her door asking to join him on a random adventure she was hesitant in letting herself go with him fully. There was something holding her back, yet she had wasn’t sure what it was.
He was kind. He was smart. There was a depth to him that other people didn’t seem to get, or at least they didn’t try enough to see it. Though the thing that drew her back to him every time she tried to convince herself to leave was that he wrote for her. Not tepid poetry or self indulgent erotica, but he wrote her a story where she was the main character. Men have tried to write for her before, that was not unique, but he wrote thoughtful adventures that showed he knew her.
“That made me cry, but I cry about everything,” she said as she dabbed her lower eyelid with the side of her finger.
He had written her a short story, only a few hundred words. It was about a girl who lost her smile and a boy who devoted his life to help her find it. The story was sweet and she didn’t really know why it brought tears to her eyes, at least on the surface. Deep in her subconscious she knew though.
She knew that he knew her better than she thought. He might even know her better than he realized. Her entire adult life she had been sad. It wasn’t a depression, but a sadness that hung over her like overcast skies. The sadness rarely broke and when it did only a few rays of sunshine could sneak through. Yet, with his words, he managed to push the clouds far enough apart so she could see the blue sky behind them.
He didn’t know what to say to that. Something should be said but the only words that came to mind were empty or superfluous. That was his odd curse, he could write a storm about a girl he fancied but when it came to say the words to her face he clammed up. The only thing he wanted to do was to make her smile, and even though this was the opposite of that he felt he still hit his mark.
The silence was awkward, so she did one of the only two things she knew how in an awkward moment, she kissed him. (The other was to say something incredibly inappropriate and either cause a laugh or enough awkward silence that they both would leave). She leaned her body forward and pressed her full lips against his. He was caught off guard but quickly came to attention and reached out to rest his hands on her hips and pull her close.
They didn’t feel the need for a torrid, tongue-involved kiss. Her lips being pressed to his was plenty special for a first kiss. Something sweet and innocent, as was his story for her and was how he saw her behind the quiet facade.
When the kiss ended and they looked into each others eyes she finally realized why she was hesitant with him. She knew why she couldn’t give in and why she enjoyed him from arms length. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust him. Quite the opposite really. She didn’t trust herself. She didn’t believe that she was worthy of something that might be special. With that self doubt came a crushing weight of pain that she couldn’t deal with when it ended. Not if, but when it ended.
If it wasn’t him who grew tired of her or cheated on her or lied to her, then it would be her that did it to him. She didn’t want to hurt him and wouldn’t let him hurt her. Love wasn’t something she felt she deserved so she locked herself up and hid her smile from herself. They’d go searching for it for eternity when it was behind her the entire time.