Eighteen Years Old
“Blow out the candles,” Mae says, hovering over me at the kitchen table. I glance at Danny, and he throws me a wink. It’s weird to hear those words from someone other than him.
Every year on my birthday, I extinguish fake candles in our special spot. When we were younger, he’d bring me a red flower in lieu of a gift.A strawberry flower for the strawberry girl, he’d always say. Even though Danny’s tacked on actual presents in years since, the flower ritual is still my favorite.
“Bee…before I turn seventy, please,” Mae sighs.
“You’re older than seven?—”
“That’s it. Take away the gifts, Janie.” Mae waves to the gift boxes on the coffee table I hadn’t noticed until now.
I can’t hold myself back from asking, “You guys got me presents?”
Eight eyes snap toward me, six with sympathy and two with devotion, as I swallow the truth of what I’ve implied through my question.
Outside of Danny, the last birthday gift I received was perfume from Mae for my thirteenth birthday. From that point on, she mailed money. I needed that fifty dollars more than she knew, but there’s something different about tearing wrapping paper off a box someone dressed up just for you.
Danny interrupts the awkwardness, clearing his throat.
“Make a wish, Gracie.”
I smile gratefully and lean forward to blow out all eighteen candles. I’m an old pro, so they go down in one swoosh.
Danny bends down and whispers in my ear, “What’d you wish for, Gracie girl?”
I shiver. “I’ll tell you tonight.”
“Okay, love you,” Danny whispers.
We say ‘I love you’ all the time…but we’ve said that for years, as friends. Every time he tells me that he loves me, I wait for the ‘in’. I am hopelesslyinlove with him, but I haven’t had the courage to say it first. With graduation right around the corner, I want to tell him how I feel. If I’ve learned anything through the therapy sessions I’ve been going to twice weekly, it’s that being open and honest with your emotions is key to healing.
Two slices of strawberry cake later, I’ve opened all my gifts. Homemade braided string bracelets from Tessa, a book from Janie, and enough trendy clothes from Mae to outfit me for a whole month.
It’s nearly sunset when Mae leaves for her Friday night gardening club meeting. As soon as the door clicks shut, Danny and I lock eyes.
Less than three minutes after that, we’re upstairs making out on my fluffy, pink double bed. His hands travel up and down my sides, sneaking under my shirt to rub my back. I don’t think I’llever get over this feeling, what it’s like to kiss him. His lips are so soft, and he smells like clean laundry and oranges. I love how his thick hair is long enough for me to run my fingers through the strands.
He pulls back slightly and gives me a crooked, teasing smile. “So, what’s your wish?”
I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I stare into his hazel eyes. I admire the little gap between his two front teeth. And I decide that this is it.
“I’m in love with you, Danny.”
He lifts an eyebrow in what appears to be confusion. Oh my God, is he that thrown off by my confession? I flush and avert my eyes.
“Yeah, baby. I love you, too?”
Steadying myself, I take a deep breath and decide to confess my feelings one more time. If he doesn’t feel the same way, that’s fine, but at least I’ll know.
“But I’minlove with you, Danny. I love you. As more than a friend.”
“I should hope so?” He narrows his eyes, searching mine. “Why’re you acting weird?”
“I…what? I’m not acting weird.”
“I say ‘I love you’ all the time,” he says defensively, then pauses. “And you say it back.”
I take two moments to join his confusion before I start giggling. I am way overthinking this. Danny is nothing if not a straightforward guy. Of course he thinks “I love you” means, well… I love you. How did I have such a wrong read on this?
