[A little something inspired by Gabrielle Aplin's Please don't say you love me.]
4 months. Months that seemed to have passed like seconds. Her fingers wove through fiery red waves and danced over light freckles on tanned skin. Her nose brushed softly against the side of the other girl's, her lips grazing over her partner's, moving softly and slowly but never lingering long enough to kiss. She felt lashes flutter against the bridge of her nose and opened her eyes, gazing into pale blue, so close she could only just focus.
People used to ask who her perfect husband was, her ideal. The picture in her head.
There was never anyone there, it was blurred. She never knew how to answer those questions. They didn't push for answers and eventually didn't bother to ask anymore.
But she still thought about it sometimes, and she realized that, blurred as the figure was. It was softer, slighter than the quarterback she was supposed to have a crush on.
Over time she could have answered the question. She has red hair that falls in waves and the occasional curl. The bluest eyes, so earnest, and they change when she smiles; they sparkle. She has soft curves and a lilting voice. I can hear when she smiles; even if I can't see it. She could have gone on for days flitting through tiny descriptions and little details she had noted about this girl.
The photograph wasn't just in her mind now.
It stood on her desk.
A beautiful ginger haired girl, lips pressed to her cheek. Her own eyes were scrunched with the smile that flooded her face and her nose crinkled.
Her heart skipped every time she saw it.
They had said three words in glances, in lingering kisses, in small gestures.
She could tell somehow that soon they would tumble out of the redhead's mouth.
The thought frightened her; she didn't want anything to change.
She felt safe in the euphoria of this limbo. Knowing but not verbalizing.
She wanted those words to mean the world. She didn't want to say them aloud.
"Just please don't say you love me, I might not say it back"
Blue eyes wandered over her face, a finger traced the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips. She seemed to understand.
She was silent.
Rosy lips met the pale skin of the corner of her mouth.
Ok.
She seemed to understand. Her brow didn't furrow at the words, she didn't question.
She simply continued as before. Fingertips moving slowly over pale skin.
She spoke in glances, in lingering kisses, in small gestures.
She had spoken too soon before. The words had become tatty.
They caught in her throat and the sound was no longer pure.
They didn't mean what they were supposed to.
They were empty exhales.
This was worth more.
She had woven the words anew, in memories of the moments that made her heart stutter.
She silenced them, she kept them safe.
They were beautiful.
Like her.
They were precious.
So she saved them.