Doubts

Texting Love

By the time we reach evening, it's obvious that something's not right with us. He's talked to my Mom. He's even spared a few polite words to my stepfather. But we've barely talked at all.

I've been quiet. Dreading the wrong words that might come out of my mouth. Something that might scare him away now that he's finally here. I've never worried so much about that before. Not that I've ever completely stopped worrying since the beginning.

Somehow, we end up playing Mario Kart in my room. He is sitting a comfortable distance away. Not invading my space. Not pressuring. My Mom eventually goes to bed. I know she's a bit concerned. But she's right next door.

We play for another hour. It's nearly 3AM. And I'm exhausted. This whole thing feels like a failure. I wanted it to be perfect, but I dreaded it coming down to this. Because it's never perfect. Never easy. Not for me.

He looks at me. "You're upset."

"It's just – we're barely talking."

"I was waiting for you to start."

I blink at him. "Why?"

He shrugs. "I'm not sure."

I take short, labored breaths. The panic is sinking in. "What does it mean if we can't talk to each other? What if it means we aren't right together?"

He frowns. "I knew you were thinking that."

"How?"

"Because I get the feeling that you don't really want me here."

"Wh-what?"

"Maybe... neither of us were ready for this."

It's only been a few months, but most people would meet much sooner. It wasn't about that for us. It was about being vulnerable with words. About relying on each other to care.

"Maybe I should go." He starts to leave.

And tears fill my eyes. I'm not trying to guilt him. I just can't help it. My heart is shattering.

He sits back down. Closer to me this time. But not quite reaching out.

His hand is tensing. He doesn't know what to do.

I speak between sobs. All my fears from today come pouring out now. "It was so much easier in text. We never ran out of things to talk about. You always knew exactly what to say."

"I'm sorry. It's just... harder in person."

Which, if it's harder for him, you can only imagine how difficult it is for me.

Finally, he lifts his hand and pushes the hair away from my face. I am still as a statue. Even my face is frozen in place. But something flashes onto his.

He takes my phone from the bookcase shelf and hands it to me. "Scoot over."

I do. Blushing scarlet and very confused.

He sits right next to me. We're pressed together on my narrow bed.

He gets out his own phone and texts: I love you.

I'm still crying, completely overwhelmed with emotions.

When I can see the screen again I text: I love you, too. I'm just terrified.