I blinked. “You’returning down sex?”
“For the time being.” Sebastian’s mouth quirked at my sputter of disbelief. “I want to do this the proper way. Courtship first, then sex.”
“But…” I was flabbergasted. “We’ve already had sex.”
“That was before we started dating.”
A wave of flutters swept away my indignation.Dating. For once, the word didn’t send dread crashing through me.
“Is that what we’re doing?” I teased, unable to stay upset when I wasthis closeto floating off the ground. “I don’t remember you asking me to be your girlfriend.”
“That’s because you asked me to be your boyfriend first.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Really?” Sebastian drawled. “Because you’re the one who showed up at my house, wearing my sweatshirt and…”
“Fine, fine.” I laughed. “We’ll call it a tie. We askedeach otherto be official.”
“I should’ve known you’d fight me even on semantics, but that’s what I signed up for.” He brushed my hair out of my eye, histouch tender. “I’m glad you came tonight,” he said softly.
I smiled, something inside me melting. “Me too.”
I was the type of person who lived in the future. I was always thinking three steps ahead, my brain hard-wired to plan for future contingencies.
But for once, I let those instincts rest and simply… existed in the moment.
It was one of the best I’d had in years.
Dear Maya,
It feels weird to write to you when our last written correspondence was in fifth grade. I won our school spelling bee after you got tripped up by “chiaroscurist,” and you left me a note filled with quite a few choice words of your own. I have to say, I’ve never seen someone use “truncheon” and “rectum” in such a creative sentence before. I wasn’t the most gracious winner, so I suppose I deserved it. The note I wrote back wasn’t very nice, either.
But fifth grade was a long time ago, and some things can only be expressed through ink on paper. I’m sitting alone in the library, where we’ve spent countless nights arguing about the most mundane of topics, and the illusion of anonymity is what gives me the courage to write this letter. That… and the memory of you, sitting right across from me. I think you’d laugh if you saw how nervous I am right now.
I debated for months over whether I should tell you at all. It’s terrifying to imagine how you might react, but we’re about to graduate, and even though we’ll be attending the same university, I have a feeling that if I don’t say this now, I never will.
So here’s the truth: I love you. Fully, inexplicably, and painfully. I’ve loved you in silence, through the turbulence of the years, and in the margins of our rivalry. You’re all I think about when I’m awake, and you’re all I dream about when I’m not. It is… agonizing.
I tried to deny it because I’m supposed to hate you. You were the thorn in my side, the obstacle on my way to success. You’re the only person who’s ever challenged me, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I wasn’t used to being bested, especially not by someone who was so happy to rub it in my face. Honestly, it pissed me off.
But somewhere along the way, my feelings changed. I don’t know when, or how, or why. I’m sure it doesn’t matter. What matters is that the very things I hated about you in the beginning are the things that I love about you now… your drive, your intelligence, your wit (which you’ve used against me many times), your sense of humor and your audacity to be openly proud of your accomplishments. You don’t shrink yourself to fit into the boxes other people built for you, and sometimes, the sting from your thorns is the only thing reminding me that I’m still alive.
Without you, my life would be an empty canvas, pristine in its perfection but yearning for color to fill it.
You see me as your rival, and part of me will always be that. I think we’re both too proud to ever stop competing in one way or another. It’s a core part of our relationship, and I wouldn’t want it to change.
But I hope that when you read this, you’ll also see me as something more. It’s possible I may have imagined the significance of our shared moments or read too much into the glances between us. This type of love isn’t something I have experience with, so like I said, it’s terrifying to think about how you might react.
However, I once read a quote that stuck with me: “Risk must be taken because the greatest hazard of life is to risk nothing. The person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.” Leo Buscaglia.
So here I am, taking the biggest risk of my life to tell you that I love you, part of me has always loved you, and part of me will always love you, no matter how you respond. If there’s even the slightest chance that you feel the same, then every risk I took would’ve been well worth it.
Love,
Sebastian
CHAPTER 30
