They start slow. She knows he is physically appealing, tall, chestnut colored, and perfectly imperfect with ears that stick out a little and a lopsided smile that she never takes the time to really look at until he hits her full force and captivates her every waking thought…and some of her dreams too.
Their attraction simmers beneath the surface. Buried under the weight of her insecurities and his complete obliviousness.
It’s only until a mutual friend practically shoves them together in a way that she’s completely embarrassed about but secretly appreciative for that he makes a move.
They start hanging out alone more. Going to the movies and talking shit to the screen while onlookers hiss at them to shut the hell up. He takes her to his favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant that he swears has the best food, and she busts his balls by shrugging in a way that’s completely unimpressed while commenting that their tacos are “utter trash.”
They’re actually fucking amazing.
She finds herself reeling at how handsome he is. How his chocolate brown eyes glimmer like sunlight when he talks about things he’s passionate about. How his nose scrunches up adorably when he’s deep in thought. How he always manages to smell like heaven.
How did she snag this guy? There’s no way she actually deserves him.
The first time he kisses her knocks her fucking socks off. Because he’s sweet and attentive and she can feel the barely concealed passion just waiting to come out of him. One kiss turns into two, then three, then pretty soon they’re making out like nobody’s business to the smooth sounds of Bryson Tiller in his bedroom.
She gushes to her friends about him in a way she hopes isn’t too annoying but probably is, but she can’t stop. She’s falling head over heels for him and she doesn’t want to stop this free fall into nirvana. She wants it to consume her. She wants to be in love.
The fact that he doesn’t, you know, claim her officially is a detail that she tries her hardest not to think about.
She sleeps with him earlier than she would’ve liked. It’s nothing like she expects…it’s infinitely better and as she lays in her post-orgasmic haze she knows that she’s gone and done it now. Her love for him is solidified the moment he enters her and stakes his claim on her heart.
It doesn’t take long before she starts to feel uncertain about things. He doesn’t call as often. Their adventures around town take a backseat to him going out with his friends. He only reaches out when sex is on his mind and why the hell does his social media bio announce his status as single?!
Her friends start asking too many questions that she doesn’t have answers to and she hateshateshates the look of pity in their eyes when she tells them that she and Jason don’t need labels to define their love thank-you-very-much. What’s understood ain’t gotta be explained. Right?!
But not right because something inside of her wants to label it. In the deepest recesses of her heart, she wants to know that he is as much hers as she is his.
She steels her nerves during one of their Netflix and Chill nights and asks him what they’re doing. What they are. Her heart is hammering in her chest and she’s almost positive she’s visibly shaking from how nervous she is but something inside of her needs to know. Needs that confirmation that he wants this, wants them just as much as she does.
It only annoys her a little when he feigns ignorance about what it is she’s referring to.
“Us, Jason. Are we together? Boyfriend and girlfriend? What are we doing?”
She notices how he squirms uncomfortably as he tells her, “he doesn’t have time for a relationship right now” but assures her that, “she’s dope” and he, “cares about her a lot.” OK…
A part of her heart breaks because while he never made promises of love to her, he also never told her he would do everything in his power whether he knows it or not, to make her fall in love with him.
And this is just not fucking OK.
And he knows it.
Things end between them soon after and she knows it’s because he’s better at letting go than she is. And she’s silently grateful to him for caring about her just enough to cut her off because she isn’t sure she would have the strength to do it on her own.
But you know STILL…fuck him.
She focuses on school, work, her friends and their issues and for awhile she doesn’t think about Jason (much) and no one sees anything amiss in that locked up, iced over, broken little heart of hers. Her mask is fixed firmly in place and she pretends she’s not bothered that she rarely ever sees him anymore because…again, fuck him.
She also pretends she doesn’t care when it reaches her ears through the grapevine that he’s in a new relationship and blissfully happy.
You know, that thing he didn’t have time for?
She pretends that the news doesn’t completely shatter her in a way she’s sure she’ll never really recover from.
Because it isn’t just the fact that he made her fall in love with him with no plan to love her in return. It’s how quickly and easily he gave his love to someone else that breaks her beyond repair.
And how somewhere, deepdeepdeep down she knew that it was never going to be her