He looks astonished.
No, no, no.I wasn’t supposed to tell him that way. I wasn’t supposed to tell him at all.
But I want him to know. He deserves to know, even if I look foolish and naive confessing my love.
“You are wonderful, Florian. I-I thought you should know.”
Someone clears his throat behind me, and I’m totally taking up space. I can’t stand in the entrance of the line and not do anything.
“Goodbye,” I say.
I hurry further into the line.
People surge around me. A row of musicians with bulky instrument cases follows me.
“Mateo!” Florian’s voice booms over the crowd.
I glance toward him. He looks alarmed and…
Oh, God.
I did that poorly.
You’re not supposed to say ‘I love you’ for the first time in airport security lines. I’ve never said those words to anyone before. Well, only to Florian, but then that case was different.
There’s a reason you’re supposed to come armed with roses and chocolate and teddy bears. Something to make sure you’re in a private location and actually standing beside each other so you can hand off those things.
He taps his phone, and I pull mine out. There’s a text.
FLORIAN: I love you too.
My breath stops, then the world becomes hot and beautiful.
I turn to look at him, and he waves. But then it’s time to show my information to security, and when I look again, he’s gone.
I press my phone to my chest.
“Your boarding pass, sir,” the security guard says.
“Sorry! Right. I—uh—forgot you wanted that.”
The security guard’s eyes narrow, and I’m pretty sure that there is some sighing going on in the line of people behind me.
I find the boarding pass on my phone and show it to the security guard. He then looks at my license, then waves me through.
Florian loves me.
Warmth fills my chest, like someone has plonked me down in front of the sort of crackling fireplaces found in very old houses that have their chimneys intact, the kind you see in Christmas movies and advertisements for very fancy winter hotels.
Someone clears his throat behind me again.
“Sorry!” I exclaim, then I busy myself with removing my shoes, removing my laptop, removing my plastic bag of liquid toiletries, and put them in one of the many gray plastic bins. I grin. My bright liquids seem to sparkle under the plastic wrapping.
Florian loves me.
Loves me.
He said the words. Well, texted the words.
