“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be comfortable with someone the way I am with you.” Fuck, that didn’t come out right. A heavy pause lingers between us. “I’m sure you’ll get there,” he eventually says. “I know that’s what you want.” It’s supposed to be said in an encouraging way, but his voice is full of defeat. But what if I don’t? The question is on the tip of my tongue because that’s what I meant. I don’t think there’s any part of me that wants to be this comfortable with someone else.
