Sophia's P.O.V.
"What did you say?" My head whipped around and I got on to my elbows, staring at him over my shoulder.
Had I heard him correctly? I was relaxing into a resting position when Bryce said those seven weighted words, striking my ear drums and making the air feel thick.
I think I'm in love with you, Sophia, he had whispered.
The "I think" struck me as a shock, more than the other loaded words. There wasn't any hesitation in his voice, no trembling nature in the way it fell from it lips - despite the phrase it self would make someone think he was questioning his own statement. The way he said "I think" was as confident as his "I am."
His facial features had softened, showing me how low his guard was. I had never seen him so vulnerable than in that moment.
Truth be told, I didn't know if I had ever seen Bryce say anything in a timid fashion. I shouldn't be that amazed at his confidence. It was there before.
How could he mean it though? I could count the number of weeks we've known each other on my hands. It wasn't more than two months. By saying this, that didn't mean I couldn't imagine reaching that point with him. Of course I did.
Bryce cleared his throat. "I said I think I'm in love with you," he reiterated, cracking a smile at me that lit up his face. "I thought I said it to myself, but I guess I was thinking out loud a little too much." He softly laughed.
"I can't say that back," I responded, hating myself for not being able to say what I knew he was hoping I would.
His laughter stopped abruptly and that smile of his that I adored had gone with it.
"But," I continued to say, "I know I'll be able to eventually."
"No rush. I get it," Bryce said coolly, sitting up and scooting to get to his pile of clothes. He found his pair of jeans and slid them on, then followed by his shirt.
"Where are you going?" I asked, observing how fast he was getting dressed. I went to my discarded clothes and started to put them on, too, when he didn't reply to me right away.
Not saying a word, Bryce waited until I pushed the sleeves of my shirt through my arms. Once I'd done that, we walked back to his apartment with this unbearable air between us that made the space appear dense.
He stayed two steps ahead of me the whole way back to his place, not bothering to say a word or glance in my direction.
After unlocking the door, Bryce said, "I'm going to take a shower before bed. You're welcomed to use the downstairs bathroom if you want to take one, too. There should be extra towels in there if you need them. If you don't see any, check the hallway closet. That's where I keep spare towels, pillows, and blankets."
He told me this without looking at me, studying the stairway that led to his bedroom as if it held the answers of the world. I was about to thank him for his suggestion, but he was already three quarters up the stairs by the time the words came out of my mouth.
"Thank y....ou." But he was gone by that point, inside of his room and far from where I stood in the foyer.
•••
The shower didn't help. Whenever I take showers, I over-analyze and overthink about every thing that happened that day. It was where the worst ideas came from and when the most pain staking memories resurfaced like a bad yearbook photo.
When I knew he was still in the bathroom, I went up to his room and got my suitcase of belongings and fished out my bedtime clothes. I went back to the living room after changing.
For me, I thought about what Bryce was possibly thinking. He hadn't come out from his bedroom yet, and I knew he wasn't in the shower anymore because I heard the water upstairs turn off ten minutes ago.
I wasn't any better after the shower. Pacing the bottom of the stairs after my shower like a maniac, I tried to work up the courage to go up there to sleep.
I couldn't manage to stay in the same bed with the amount of unsaid words floating in my head.
Should I have said something else?
Was I in the wrong?
I was honest with him. I wasn't going to make him believe I was ready for that leap; even if it was only a phrase of endearment, tossed around loosely by people in my age group.
When I was in love, I knew it. I could feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I bathed in the warmth of the affection, thoughtless as the serenity of it all as it sank into me like sweet, slow dripping syrup.
I hadn't had that miraculous moment with Bryce. I cared for him and I liked him enough for me to start daydreaming about a potential future. But that was about it. I didn't have that notable moment yet.
We hadn't gone on any dates. We never did anything traditionally considered normal in a relationship. I still didn't know key components of his life. Such as his family, his past, and his own hopes and aspirations for the future.
For the sake of both of our sanities, I went to the hallway closet and took out the extra blanket and pillows. I threw the sheet over the cushions of the couch, smoothing my hand on the material and straightening it out until there weren't any wrinkles or bumps.
I assembled the pillows accordingly and tucked myself under the blankets, curling it under my chin and closing my eyes. As my eyelids grew heavier and heavier, I stretched out my limbs and slipped my hand underneath the pillow.
Suddenly my deep slumber ended when a pair of hands elevated me off the couch and into midair. One of my shoulders came in contact to a chest. I was sleepy and slightly disoriented, but I recognized it was Bryce. "What the...what are you doing?"
"You're not about to sleep on the couch like some damn house guest." I couldn't make out Bryce's features in the dark, but he spoke in a short, clipped tone.
Halfway up the stairs, I thought to myself how he could've asked me calmly to go upstairs with him instead of picking me up in his arms and taking me up there.
I was beginning to understand that Bryce didn't like asking people do anything. He would rather get it done himself with no questions asked.
At the foot of his bed, he brought me back to my feet. I could've sworn the tension was undoubtedly active, feeding into my insecurities.
Bryce dragged back the comforter and crawled into bed, pulling the string of his lamp light and crashing his head to his pillow.
"Do you intend to watch me sleep from over there all night?" Bryce inquired with his eyes partly open.
I shuffled my feet to the opposite side of the bed and got into bed, facing my back to his and bringing the comforter to my shoulders.
"Bryce..." I breathed. "Bryce."
"Yes?" He murmured.
I flipped to my other side so that my eyes were facing the back of his head. He didn't do the same though. "I want to talk about what happened up there on the rooftop. I don't want you to think I don't care for you or anything. I really do like you." I extended my hand to touch his shirtless, tattooed back, but he inched away from me.
In the matter of a few seconds, he threw the comforters back and jumped out of bed.
I instantly sat up right. "Where are you going?"
"Out. I'm going out," he said bluntly and went into his walk-in closet.
"At this hour?"
"I'm just going for a drive." He explained and stepped out of the closet wearing a green shirt and dark jeans. Bryce grabbed his keys and rushed out the doors with little to no regards to say goodbye.
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A/N: Please remember to vote and comment. Sorry about the late update!