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She was barely eighteen the first time she fell in love. Really fell in love, not the silly crushes and adamant professions of it that so often plague high school girls, which she'd never really understood or participated in. She never doodled hearts on notebooks inscribed with initials or proclaimed herself the "Mrs." of the quarterback or deluded herself with "4-ever"s. It wasn't her. It never had been. Looking back on it years later, maybe it should've been. Maybe she'd have been in a healthier place when her heart was broken into pieces. Maybe she could've put them back together if she'd tasted the petty hurts of puppy love instead of finding herself fatally wounded, hemorrhaging and unable to stitch herself back up and move on.
Instead she squeezed on a tourniquet and cut off the flow completely. She didn't fall in love again. She didn't let it happen, simple as that. She dated, of course, here and there. Became physically entangled with those she trusted, because physical needs shouldn't be denied. But if the words were spoken to her, she didn't say them back. She would say "Thank you, that's sweet." And if there is a quicker way to take a knife to a man's ego and end a relationship than those four simple words, she's not found it yet.
She didn't think it would happen with him. She didn't think that they were or would ever be like that. They were attracted to each other. Affectionate, sure. Attached. She grew very attached to him. She missed him when he was gone. She liked him. Very much, and like was enough for her. Even as the bindings began to come undone and part of her knew that it wasn't just attraction, affection and attachment, she denied it. She lied to herself.
Until he asked for her love, and she found she couldn't lie to him. Healing can hurt, and the flow of blood and warmth into a heart she'd tried to strangle...the pain was near physical, a sharp twist in her stomach and a tightness in her chest that made it hard to breathe. It took time before she could hear the words without freezing, because they were never just words coming from him; never a mundane gesture, no matter how much he might tried to lighten it, so she wouldn't go rigid and wide-eyed like a startled deer ready to bolt. It took a while for them to easily come from her, but he was patient with her, more patient than she thought she deserved. He never pushed. Even when they were the most intimate, laid bare and entwined beneath the sheets, he waited until the words tumbled from her lips before he ever murmured their twin in her ear.
"I love you."
