I'd never really had romantic feelings for someone before. In all my 15 years, I'd never been infatuated, never had my heart beat faster when someone came near. I still didn't really have those kinds of feelings towards Dean. It was something deeper. He didn't excite me, he relaxed me to the point of making me feel grounded, valued, and loved. I wasn't just infatuated, I really cared for him, and I didn't really care about who he was with, as long as he was happy.
I tried to tell him one day. We were on my bed, in pajamas since it was getting late, and we were kind of just staring up at the ceiling. He was talking about mechanics, as usual, but then there was a lull in the conversation. I thought I could try and tell him that I... But the words were stuck in my throat. I was too shy, too unsure, and too, well, everything. I wasn't even sure if this wasn't just what having a friend felt like.
In the end, it was he who made the first move. He said he needed to move, that he needed to exercise, and so we went on a walk down the dusty streets that crossed like a web around Anna's house. I tripped on a stone and scraped my knee, and, while I felt fine, Dean insisted on helping me up. He took my hand and got me to a standing position. He didn't let go afterwards.
...We kissed in front of the old oak tree, its leaves illuminated by the rays of the setting sun. I felt something- love? Really truly felt it. It was glorious- the best thing I'd ever felt, really, but I guess everyone probably says that. When we finally let go of each other, though, I could tell Dean felt off about something. I asked him why, and he just mumbled something about his father.
He ran off.
I'd screwed up again.