Sure, Amy seems to have softened toward me considerably. Her little speech was so achingly vulnerable that I wanted to hold her more than anything in the world, but she never said that she cares for me. I was so hungry for the words. I had to fight the urge to reach out and shake her.“Tell me you want me just as much as I want you, my darling Amelia,”I wanted to scream.
But I can’t beg for her love. I’ll never be fully content unless she gives it to me without coercion. My fragile heart might be desperate for love, but what it needs most is her trust.
"Thank you," I say. My voice is unsteady, but few people likely heard since the mic stand reaches my stomach.
They will hear me in a moment.
Fuck, this is uncomfortable. I’m never nervous when I speak publicly. I usually wear my mask. I smirk and make snarky comments and pretend like my whole college life is a game that I'm far too sophisticated to take seriously.
Now is my opportunity to take off the mask and lay it to rest, sharing parts of myself I’d much rather keep hidden forever. I've barely spoken and already my skin is hot and tingly.
As I adjust the mic stand to reach my mouth, a smattering of laughter rises from the crowd. Is my height really that damn funny? No. Their laughter reveals their expectations. They think I’m going to entertain them tonight.
I will entertain them. At my own expense.
"I have a story to tell you," I say, "so bear with me, because I'm not a wordsmith."
The stadium grows almost unbearably silent.
Here it goes.
"Growing up, I was an only child," I say. "It was really…lonely."
Lonely. It's a common word, so why does it make my skin crawl? This tiny admission makes me want to shut my eyes like a child pretending the whole world disappears into the darkness of my eyelids.
There's one person who can make me feel grounded right now, and I need to see her face.
I pull the mic from the stand and start walking in Amy's direction. The crowd rumbles, but I try to ignore it.
I’ll speak to her. Only her.
Her face comes into full view. Those big hazel eyes are riveted on me, and my heart flutters just like it did during our first conversation six years ago. Like it always does whenever I'm around her.
"I had lots of friends," I say, "but I didn't have any deep connections with people. I was afraid…"
The word closes my throat. I take a deep breath, and Amy nods once, as if asking me to keep going.
I can do this for her.
"I didn't like sharing my feelings with anyone. I thought they made me weak." I laugh humorlessly. "To be honest, I hate that I'm sharing right now. This is really hard for me."
Murmurs run through the crowd. Anyone who thought this was a buildup to a big joke is probably looking around with wide eyes. People might even be cringing on my behalf.
It's okay. This is all for her.
"I wouldn't be saying any of this if not for you, Amelia Harrington. I learned the danger of hiding my real feelings. I've been hiding them for six years."
Her eyes widen minutely, and that wasn't even the crux of what I have to say. What will she think about what I say next?
"I love you, Amy."
Gasps break out across the stadium, but I keep my gaze fixed on her. Her eyelids look a bit heavy, as if she's dazed.
"I always have. Since the first day I talked to you. In fact…” I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. “I followed you here to college.”
Amy’s doe eyes grow impossibly large.
My forced smile feels like more of a grimace. “It’s true. My parents pushed me to go to UCLA. I almost always took their advice back then, but I couldn’t… I refused to let you go.”
