v u l v a l i c i o u s
if you like me
We were riding through Death Valley, the desert starting to spread itself out around us, when you said you maybe liked me.
"I'd have told you a long time ago, but then I wasn't sure and I didn't and it started to feel like it would be weird."
A crush, actually. You told me you might have a crush.
And I don't know what to think. If I should be excited or not. If I feel the same way or not. Mostly I like what we have. I like holding hands and riding in the car, watching rom coms on the couch and talking about how predictable they are but how that's ok.
I like that we go on adventures. That you take me to the ocean or say, "you've never seen _____?! We're going. Next week."
I like you.
But I don't know that I like-like you.
I said we could make out if you ever felt like it. I kept wondering if it would happen. It didn't. That was ok.
Sometimes you kiss someone and know something you didn't before. Sometimes all it takes is a "yes, and" to make some part of you shift inside, open up a gate to a world where you like a person in a different way.
Sometimes there's nothing.
I don't know what this is. How to talk about it. If I can.
For now, I'm tired. I've got time.