The first time you say "I love you," his eyes light up. He doesn't smile; he never smiles. But he's happy all the same, you can tell.
"That's pretty dope," he says. The two of you hold hands as you walk home from school together.
The first time he says "I love you" is while he's sitting across from you at the Arby's that is the spot of your first date - he said it was ironic. You don't care either way. Food is food, and fast food restaurants are more or less all the same as long as none of them serve booze.
He reaches across the table to put his hand on yours. You share a milkshake for dessert.
The fifth time you say "I love you" is as casual as the fourth was and the sixth will be. You stopped by his locker to help him carry his books; he's in a bunch of high-level computer classes so you figure he can use the help.
"Yeah, I know," he says in a tone that an outsider would interpret as him brushing you off, but you know better. You do the same to him; it's a joke. "You gonna help me carry these books, or what?"
You take half of the stack and walk with him to the computer lab. This time, before you part ways, you gather up your courage and do a thing you've wanted to since even before you first confessed. You lean down to meet his eye level and press your lips against his.
He freezes up. Score one for Roxy. You grin at him and hand him his books. "There's more where that came from, Di-Stri."
"Uh... yeah." He turns to enter the computer lab. In his daze, he walks into a wall.
The twentieth time you say "I love you" and the fourth time you kiss him is when you stop by his apartment to walk with him to school. He chuckles in an odd way, but it won't be until much much later that you finally realize the emotion he's trying so hard to hide right now is nervousness.
The third time he says "I love you" comes so long after the second that you've almost forgotten what the words sound like coming from his lips. It's a Friday night and he's over at your place playing video games. The newest system you own is an N64, which is purely your own choice; with the money your mom makes from her royalties you could afford every new high-end system three times over. But there's something about older consoles and games that the newer generations lack.
Older games are also like five thousand percent easier to modify, like the Sonic 3 romhack starring Amy Rose in which you are totally kicking his butt in the 2P race mode. What can you say? You like pink.
But this was about you and Dirk, not your hardcore ladyboner for twenty-year-old video games. The third time he says "I love you," you're halfway through the fourth lap on Desert Palace Zone. You weren't expecting him to say anything, let alone that. You literally drop your controller and he breezes past you to the finish line.
Okay, you have to admit it was pretty funny. You say "I love you" for the thirty-fourth time and kiss him.
The fifty-first time you say "I love you," he's uneasy. His face is expressionless, as usual, but his posture subtly shifts and all of a sudden he's giving off this air of discomfort. You're sitting on his bed, arms around each other, him with his shirt off and you with yours unbuttoned.
The room is spinning - maybe you've had a little much to drink for how early in the day it is, but there's no crying over spilt malt liquor - and everything's moving so slow, and then it's all moving so so fast as he pulls away. You can't help swaying and falling onto your side.
"Dirk?" You push yourself back up and he's on his feet, grabbing his shirt and pulling it back on.
"Sorry, Rox. I, uh..." He looks down at you for a split-second, then looks away so quickly one would almost think the sight of you burned his eyes. "I love you too, but I can't do this."
"Wha-"
"Get up, I'll walk you home."
The fifty-second time you say "I love you" is in a voicemail you leave him that night. He doesn't respond.
The fifth time he says "I love you," it's to a boy.
