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Stanley leads a hand to my face, caressing my cheek ever so slightly. I close my eyes, absorbing the feeling. His finger is rougher than mine, but I don’t mind. I enjoy the roughness of his skin because it’s probably the only tough side he has. Stan is possibly the sweetest guy I’ve met in my life.
“I like you, Bree,” he confesses in a whisper. “I don’t want this to be something that you do because you’re emotionally vulnerable. I don’t want to be something that you regret. The last time that we got too close, you avoided me for a week.”
I swallow the knot forming on my throat.
First, I process his confession, confirming something that everyone kept telling me that it was happening. I chose to be blind, but I can’t ignore it when he says it to my face. Stanley wears his feelings on his sleeve, and he’s not afraid of bearing his soul for me. There’s no place for misunderstandings. He’s straightforward and explicit.
I can’t help but wonder why he’s not afraid. I’ve been scared of what I feel for him. I’ve always been terrified of my feelings because I’m not good at expressing my thoughts or how I think. I’m an impulsive person. I go with what feels good and right.
I know that everything feels right with him, but I’m still afraid.
Having feelings for someone in a romantic way means that I need to get used to something that will last in a temporary world. I’m not skeptical about the fact that longtime relationships exist. My parents are proof of it—they were highschool sweethearts. I’ve seen they’re real, and I’ve witnessed it. I’ve just never been able to experiment with something that lasted. I’ve dated guys before, had crushes and romantic experiences, but they never seem to last.
Stanley’s personality promises to build an everlasting relationship. However, I can’t deny my feelings. I can’t act as if I didn’t like him because I do.
“I didn’t mean to scare you off,” he adds.
I shake my head.
“You didn’t,” I assure him. “I was thinking. I didn’t want to answer by impulse and then screw up. I don’t want to mess this up.”
“What was your first instinct?” Stanley interrogates.
“That I like you,” I confess.
He tries to fight against a smile, but it’s helpless because the corners of his lips curve anyway.
“Then?”
I sigh.
“I’m not good at handling my feelings. I’ve postponed this for a week, Stan. I leave for another moment how I feel. Is that normal?” My voice ends up being small and quiet.
“I’m sure that I like you because you’re not normal, Bree.”
A shaky laugh escapes me.
“Incredible.”
“I realized that I truly liked you when you were talking to me about how much you adore The Addams’ Family. Trust me, I know that you’re not normal, and I like you nonetheless.”
My blood boils, concentrating on my face. I can feel it burning as shame spreads in my body.
“God, Stan.”
“It’s the truth,” he assures, caressing my chin with his thumb, and I giggle.
“I realized that I liked you when I found myself in a dark street, alone and disoriented, and you were the only one on my mind.”
I’m able to hear him sigh as he wraps me with his arms, hugging me tightly. Stanley kisses my forehead, and I smile, enjoying this moment, his warmth and his smell. Everything clouds my senses.
“Are you really okay with what happened?” he asks.
Am I?It’s something that I haven’t given time to settle in.
“I still haven’t processed that it happened. It was so fast,” I reply, honesty decorating my words. “I’m just grateful that it wasn’t a bigger thing. Under the circumstances, I was lucky. I know that it sounds messed up, but I’m grateful that he just punched me and left. Is that okay?”
“It’s okay. I think you’re handling this like a pro, Bree,” mumbles. “You’re strong.”
