Say Something

         “What the hell is your problem?” I yell at him as he walks to his car. He looks up at me, startled. He looks worried. He should be. We haven’t spoken in two weeks, but I will not allow it to end that way.
         “What? What do you mean,” He asks me. I resist the urge to scream. We are in a public place, after all. I fill the space between us. We are mere inches from each other and I shove him. I am in love with him. I am not afraid of him. And that emboldens me. So I take a step closer. We are in each other’s spaces. But more correctly, I am in his. I started this. I’m getting the answers that I need.
         “What do I mean?” I laugh exasperatedly, but still glad that I chewed spearmint gum in last class. My breath invades his nose, and I see what it does. Just being this near each other undoes both of us. He exhales and his breath seeps into my nostrils and my lungs savor it. He did not chew spearmint gum in last class, but his breath doesn’t smell, it’s just him, his very scent that I hold on to. His scent clings to the sunny, spring day before us. It is the Friday before Spring Break and I have waited long enough to have this conversation with him.
         “You stopped talking to me.” I say, I feel as though muttering those words conceded my higher ground. He now has the upper hand. He can make this hurt or he can make this the best day of our lives. He sighs, our breaths mingle, he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, looks deeply into my eyes. I know he’s searching. Searching for words and strength. I just stand there. Then, leaving his hand on my cheek, his other claims one of my hands.
         “I know,” he says. “I didn’t know how to deal. We were getting so close and you understand me in this way where I feel like I’m invincible. I’m not smart and I get teased for it. I’m not stupid and I can see that when I am with you. I felt special because you made me feel my worth. But that proves you deserve more than me. I know we’re graduating soon and that makes this even more important…what would happen to us then? Where would we go after high school, the same college? Would you let me drag you down with my stupidity?” I stand there, unsure. He is not stupid. I am not stupid. I know that relationships out of high school don’t last…for most. But we are not most. We are not going to fail. I have known that since before our relationship became more. When we were just friends. I know that we will not fail, but it will take effort. I look into his eyes, I see his deep sincerity, I want to cry. I hate looking at that hurt look.
         “I love you.” This isn’t the first time I’ve said it, but it’s the first time he’s heard it. I was afraid before, afraid to say it, because I wasn’t sure if that would push him away. He doesn’t get in this deep, ever. I know that. “I love you, and I don’t care about where we go to college. I don’t care if we go to the same or different colleges. I don’t care if you want to go out of state. I don’t care if you think you’re stupid and if others care too much about your test scores and not their own. I want you. I want your flaws and I want to hear you laugh. I don’t care if you think you’re holding me back. I just don’t want to hold us back.”
         “I’m not good enough. I’m not enough.”
         “Neither am I.”          
         “You’re perf-“
         “No I am not. And neither are you. We are just this. Perfect. For. Each. Other.” I say each word like they are individual sentences. His hand is still on my cheek and his other is still grasping mine, but as my words had kept tumbling from my mouth, his hand had tightened. Maybe it should have been painful, but he wasn’t hurting me. Even though, as I look up at him and his eyes are closed, I know that the tight grip on my hand is him conveying that he feels the same way. In a few short days or week we both knew each other just by looks and touches. If I touched him on his shoulder with just the tip of my finger, while he’s talking to someone, he would just smile and hold me against him. He would just know that I was trying not to be rude. I look around at the empty lot. We are the only two cars still in it. And we aren’t going to move for a long time, I can tell.
         “I love you too.” He says, and I am caught up. I was looking over his shoulder when he said them, so I blink up at him and he smiles. He leans his head so close to mine that his lips are right next to my ear and he whispers, “I. Love. You.” I lean forward and we just hug. He releases my hand and grips my body with both of his and twirls me around in circle and we’re both laughing. This is young love. This is true love. But most importantly of all types and ways and lengths of love, ours is the type of love that will last forever because we found our ways into each other’s hearts and even if I have never believed in soul mates, I know that he is definitely mine. He puts my feet back on the ground, but doesn’t release me, and that’s good because I don’t want him to, ever. I want this to last as long as it possibly can. He rests his head on my forehead and our breaths mix together. Our longings, our dreams, mixing together. Everything in the world deciding to become ours. Not mine. Not his. Ours. And when his lips crash into mine, I know this is best decision I ever could have made. Because walking away from him like so many people had said to would have been a lifetime without this type of love and friendship and pure happiness.