My voice breaks, words tumble over each other faster now.
"And this weekend … God, this weekend has been the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me because I got to pretend you were mine, got to touch you and kiss you a-and have you, and it felt so real even though I knew it wasn't. Even though I said it was 'just once to get it out of our systems', even though everyone kept telling me you were just being nice, just playing a part."
I'm crying now, words spilling out like a dam burst.
"But I can't. I can't go back to just friends after this. I can't sit across from you and talk about the weather like I don't know what you taste like, like I haven't had you inside me, like I'm not completely in love with you and have been for years."
A sob escapes, and I press my hand over my mouth.
"So yeah. That's what's wrong. I'm in love with my best friend, and he's been fake-engaged to me all weekend, and tomorrow it ends, and I go back to pretending I'm fine being just friends when really I'm … I'm?—"
I can't finish. I'm crying too hard, arms wrapped around myself because I've just destroyed the most important relationship in my life, and there's no taking it back.
The quiet stretches thin and fragile, and I want to die, want to disappear, want to take back every word except I can't. He's just standing there staring at me. Fuck. I've ruined everything, lost him completely.
My vision blurs with tears, and my legs barely support my weight. I wait for him to tell me gently that he loves me as a friend, that I've misread everything, that this is awkward now. Maybe even make a joke or two. Defuse the tension.
Instead, he takes a step closer.
Then another.
"Liz." He hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my face up to his. "Liz, look at me."
I shake my head. I can't do it. I'm too scared of what I'll see.
"Please."
I force myself to meet his eyes, bracing for impact, every muscle tense and preparing for heartbreak.
"I need you to hear this, Liz. When you said 'just once to get it out of our systems'? I lied. It didn't work. Hasn't worked. Won't ever work."
Wait. What?
"I've been in love with you since sophomore year of college. That study session when you fell asleep on my shoulder and drooled on my Statistics textbook. You woke up so embarrassed, and I just knew I was completely screwed because you were my bestfriend, and I'd rather die than lose that, lose you, so I never said anything."
The world tilts. I can't breathe. My mouth opens, but no words come out.
"Every woman I've dated since then was just for show. Some of them aren't even real. Sad to admit, I know. You ruined me for everyone else. I've always been yours. Always will be. And when I proposed with my grandmother's ring, I meant it. Meant every word. Been in love with you for so long I don't remember what it's like to not love you."
Dean's hands tremble.
"So if you think you're alone in this, if you think you're the only one who can't go back to being just friends, you're wrong. I can't either. Don't want to. Never wanted to. I want … I want you. Not fake. Not for show. Not just once. I want you forever."
He loves me. Dean loves me. Has loved me. For years. The same years I've loved him. We've both been hiding the exact same thing and?—
My legs give out, but he catches me, his hands on my arms, holding me up.
"Dean, w-what … y-you love me?"
"Yes. So much."
"For years?"
"Since sophomore year."
"That's … that's when I started falling for you, too."
"I know. We're idiots."
