The Life You Love

Chapter 5/Part 2

We leave the library before the final bell, opting to walk home, hand in hand, of course, and spend the hour or so to get to know each other better. Even though we had spent over an hour sitting telling of our favourite jokes, funny stories and whatever else we still have plenty to talk about and eventually the question as to what to call "this" comes up.

'So, what does this mean?' he asks. I didn't expect this. I thought I'd be the one to want to know if we were putting labels on this. I don't look at him as I say,

'Well, what do you think it means?' I think Alex was hoping I'd be more straight in answering but I can't say it. I can't tell Alex Reynolds that I want to be his girlfriend, or that I think I am. Even if I am. The words are too strange in my head and I can't picture the taste of them on my tongue. I steal a glance at him, at my... whatever he is. He's gone a little read but I can't tell if that's just from walking or not.

'Well,' he begins, 'I suppose, I mean, if you want, well, for me, I wouldn't mind a repeat of that kiss and I like you so I guess that would make us, a thing?'

I can't believe how adorable he is.

'Are... are you embarrassed? Are you too shy to say "boyfriend and girlfriend?"' I laugh. I never would have imagined Alex Reynolds to be embarrassed at saying the words "boyfriend and girlfriend". It just seems so unlike him - the boy who has a different girl on his arm every week. It's only when he gets redder do I realise that, yes, he is embarrassed. But also, I just said it. I just suggested that's what we are.

'I guess that's it settled,' he says, nonchalantly yet still with that embarrassed look upon his face, 'girlfriend.' He adds with that infamous cheeky smirk and I know he's teasing me for being the one to say it. He drops my hand and I turn to find out why when he attacks me from behind with a great big hug, his strength almost knocking me into the ground. I let out the loudest laugh than I think I've ever given, at least recently. He's laughing too. It's just he and I on the street and I couldn't be happier. We calm and right ourselves, but not before Alex spins me around, slamming into his chest he brings his face right into mine and kisses me for the second time. It's more forceful than before. He's owning this kiss. I'm his. He's mine. I still feel giddy and shock at the fact this is happening but I'm more aware of where I am this time. I can't help but smile, which causes Alex to do the same. He pulls away before we end up just smashing teeth and we keep walking. I don't know what makes me think of it but I can't help but wonder at the number of girls he's done this with before, that he's made feel this way. It's going round and round in my head and I'm so struck by the realisation that he's done this before and that I haven't that I stop in my tracks. Still smiling and holding my hand, Alex now a few feet in front of me turns,

'El?'

I look up at him. I need to know.

'How many?' I almost whisper. He doesn't understand. I can see it on his face. He doesn't move, he's rooted to the spot. To be fair, the question doesn't have any context to him, so I explain.

'How many other girls, Alex? Because we both know that I'm not the first girl you've been with.' I can feel tears nipping at my eyes. Not now. I refuse to cry over this.

'El.' He sounds relieved but there's a sadness to it, a sadness that reaches his face.

'What does it matter? Those girls aren't important. I'm with you, not them.' He sounds so genuine, but he doesn't understand. I need to know that I'm not just a number.

'It matters to me. I might not be the first to you, but... but, you're the first to me. How many?' I'm staring at the ground, feeling ridiculous that I had to ask. That my stupid brain won't just let me be happy, but has to question everything. Suddenly I feel his hands gripping my arms.

'Elissa,' he sighs, 'I... I didn't realise. I... I don't know. That's the truth. I don't know how many girls there have been,' I want to cry. There's been that many he has lost count. He continues, desperately. 'I don't know how many there have been, because they didn't matter. They were nothing to me - and I was nothing to them. They were someone to fuck around with, to forget about things. And I was just a way to impress their friends and instagram followers. You aren't one of them. You're so much more than them. I like you, El. No. I don't.' I'm so taken by what he's just said to me and I snap my head right up to look at him.

'I don't like you, El. I love you.'