I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I know is that his hands are still holding me in place, grounding me, and I don’t know if I want him to let me go or pull me closer. If he lets go, I’ll never forget the feeling of kissing him, not now that I know what he tastes like, how he feels. I’ll forever be haunted by it. But if he pulls me closer, that means he chooses me. And I’ve spent my whole life being overlooked that the thought of him actually choosing me feels like something I can’t afford to believe in. Not yet.
