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Professional. Working. Relationship, I remind myself. But clearly, I have no clue how to do that. Not with her.
When I look at Hallie, all I see is the girl from my past, my literal favorite person. But then I remember that she’s not her anymore, I’m no longer that same guy,
And that pride feels conflicting too because I shouldn’t care anymore, but all I can see is the girl next door,
I don’t know what comes over me. Probably the same form of insanity that caused me to pull her chair close to mine and almost call her “baby.”
There’s this moment of déjà vu from the first time we ever met, when I was eleven and he was twelve, and he was just happy to have kids his age living next door.
“Hello?” he asks, but they’re all looking right past him to me. “Okay, well fuck me, I guess. Hallie, this is Stevie, Indy, Miller, and Kennedy.” He gestures to each one as he says their names. “Everyone, this is Hallie.
“You sure look good in my shirt for not being mine.” “Get fucked, DeLuca.” I smile as I open the door. “Would love to. You just let me know when and where, Hart.”
“You single, Hal?” I finally give him the long-awaited answer, nodding to tell him yes. “Good.” He takes a slow predatorial step towards me, tone sharp and leaving no room for question. “Because we aren’t fucking friends.”
Needy is literally my number one personality trait.
I have only ever loved one person in my entire life and she’s here and fuck it, I don’t care about the rest.
“I don’t want to want you.” “Yeah, baby.” He nudges his nose against mine. “That makes two of us.”
“Are you out of your mind? Just because I need you to be mine before I fuck you doesn’t mean I don’t want to cuddle.”
Not one day went by that I didn’t think of you. You were everywhere. In the music I listened to. In the house I live in. I tried to compare every single person I met to you, but there was no comparison. And I will spend the rest of my life regretting leaving you behind all those years ago.”
I’ve loved you since I was twelve. I thought that was another one of those unspoken things.”
I’ve known almost every iteration of this woman and have loved each version. She has been my favorite person since I was twelve,
“Are you sure that’s not just a first-love thing?” “No, baby. It’s a last-love thing.”
Dear God, I’m obsessed with her.
How rare to find someone who understands and appreciates you for exactly who you are at each phase of your life.
