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Theme Eleven: It's cold out here, and I'm freezing.
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Well, I'm running out of ideas.
I've tried faking niceness around your folks, I've tried being the sweetest I've ever been, I've done everything I can think of. I got flowers, candy, books, even those ridiculous barrettes you like. I have done each and every thing that popped into my head for you, Emily. What more do you need? What more do you want? What do I need to do to fix this whole mess? This romance thing isn't as easy as I thought it would be. I thought people were supposed to fall in love and then end up together naturally, somehow. I guess I need to try harder.
Taking your hand doesn't work because we automatically switch into arm looping as easy as walking. That's why people believe we're friends even when we're awkwardly in love and at odds with each other. We fall in synchronized steps without trying and we have silent conversations all the time. We're us. Normal rules about romance and holding hands don't apply. Thing is, Em, I don't know a whole lot about even normal romance. I'm sort of new to all this. You're the first girl I've ever really had any interest in, ever.
I can't just kiss you. You're not the kind of girl who would take kindly to that, and it doesn't feel right. It's too intimate, too soon. It wouldn't be right. I can't explain it, but I don't think I've earned your trust back enough to do that just yet. I'm still melting the ice around your heart, snowflake by snowflake. I have to tread carefully. After all we've been through, I don't dare lose you. I love you too much to make a single mistake in this relationship now.
The only thing I can think of is to pull you close. Your scent is familiar, Herbal Essences and incense and soap. I breathe it in slowly, like it's expensive perfume. I lock my arms around your shoulders, nuzzling into your soft blonde hair. Everything is so real. You're so real. I love you, and I need you to know that, because it's been my driving force for so long I can't picture life without you by my side. I need you close to me, warm and real, a solid piece of the present, my treasure.
Arms gingerly wrap around my waist. You lay your head on my shoulder, eyes closed. Is it getting through? Am I getting through to you, conveying what I mean without saying I love you? If I said it, you wouldn't believe it. We've lied to each other too much for you to believe anything I say right away anymore. But gestures aren't words, they're pure, unbiased, real. Please give me a sign, a word, anything to let me know you love me too. It doesn't even have to be a word, just don't leave me in limbo anymore. I'm completely out of ideas.
"My Papa's staring," the words come out a contented purr more than a worried whisper, "He's going to kick your ass."
"What?" I ask innocently. "It's cold out here, and I'm freezing. You were just being neighborly."