After Friday night, I know I want more. Between us, and for us. Especially, I want to show her I can do more. I’m willing to push past my nerves and cut the silence, if that’s what it takes.
“Is that accurate?” The question comes out a bit shaky. Her beautiful brown eyes glance over at me, and I’m reminded of what could be mine.
“Is what accurate?”
I clear my throat and point to the screen. “That.”
The film’s main girl is twisting a necklace in her hands. A secret one, from when she was younger and used to indulge in delusions of being with her brother’s best friend. The pendant is a silver S—for the leading man.
“The letter necklace?”
“Yeah.” I feel the rambling before it comes. It’s so different from how I usually approach conversations, but I have to try. “Do people like those sorts of things? They don’t think it’s weirdto wear something that directly references the person they’re dating?”
I want to say she’s the type that would love a gesture like a letter necklace, but I don’t want to assume. If that’s the kind of thing she’d be turned off by, I want to know.
I want to know everything about her, actually.
She sits up straight, facing me with her legs slightly bent across the cushion between us.
“I can’t speak for everyone in the world, but personally, I love stuff like that.”
“You don’t think it’s strange?”
“No. I guess I can see what you’re saying.” Her fleece pajamas wrinkle when she bends her knee. Not moving her legs away but pulling the rest of her body closer. “I don’t see it that way, though. I think it’s a cute and subtle way to show your affection for someone.”
I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore, but I continue to ramble. “Is it subtle? She’s literally wearing his name on her chest.”
Rosalie laughs, and I give up on trying to calm my heart. Her hand motions to the television. “Exaggerating much? It’s a letter, not the full name. It’s like a little secret she can choose to keep, if she wants. A letter could mean anything. It doesn’thaveto be for the guy she likes. L could stand for love, or luck, or lobster-”
The list grows. Increasingly more ridiculous and outlandish words are piled on each other, and usually her joke would make me laugh. But everything around us has faded into background noise, the air has gone from crisp to warm, and my leg stops shaking.
“L?”
She goes quiet. The front door behind her is hazy. Rosie has become the only thing in focus. In her maroon sweater, hairmessily tied together, brown eyes wide and her chest rising and falling.
The pause in conversation lasts too long. The expression on her face is shock, and panic, and anything but platonic.
I’ve become so comfortable around her, these nerves almost feel brand new. Nothing like the ones I get when meeting new people or having to impress my father’s business partners. These nerves are the ones that alit when I saw her for the first time. When I heard her laugh across our first shared dinner, and when she accidentally brushed her hand against mine in the kitchen.
They’re solely reserved for Rosie.
“L?” I repeat myself. My body sits still, with the shaking finding its place in my voice.
She spends another moment gaping at my question, before hurriedly waving her hands around. “That wasn’t- It was just-”
“I know what it was.”
I spent most of my life unsure of who I am and what I’m doing, but not here. There’s no doubt in my mind what this has become, or what Rosalie deserves.
She takes a deep breath. Her body starts to shift, moving away from her spot on the couch and closer to me, lip finding a place between her teeth.
I think Rosie is about to make the first move. If she’s created a place in her heart for me—with my awkward interactions and slow approach to friendship—she might think she has to.
She shouldn’t have to. The most amazing girl in the world deserves someone who recognizes her, what she needs, and what she wants. I might not be the most confident guy in the room, but I know Rosie wants to be treated like a princess. I’m determined to give it to her.
When I speak again, I focus all my energy on keeping my voice steady. My chest feels like it could explode at any moment, and every part of my skin is burning, but she deserves a man whois proud of what he feels for her. I’ll be exactly that, no matter what.
“We’re more than roommates. We’re friends—close friends—but it’s more than that. I feel more than that. I’ve been caught in silence my whole life. I always hated it until I was with you. I can sit with you for hours and it’s comfortable. It’s like you see me. I don’t even know what there istosee, but you do. There’s something between us I know I’ve never had before.
