If It Makes You Happy

by Julie Olivia

She’s beautiful like this—thrilled and entirely overwhelmed. I don’t know what lies she tells herself; there’s no way she could be underwhelming.

How the hell did I get privileged enough to see this side of her?

“Because you mean more to me than just a simple, confusing kiss.”

The knot inside my stomach slowly unravels, like her words are gentle hands untying it herself.

And all at once, I know it as clear as day. I love him. I love him. Sarcastic, floppy-haired Clifford Burke.

I’ve touched Michelle in quiet ways for weeks, little bumps or strokes along her knee and forearm, but the freedom to touch wherever I like is like carrying heaven in my palms.

A silhouette of beauty in the palm of my hand.

And it hits me. I love this woman. I don’t know when it happened. It slipped over me so softly, like the changing of seasons. The seeping scent of baked bread first thing in the morning. A wistful sigh on a perfect fall day. I love Michelle. I’ve loved her for far too long.

Sometimes, you have to do the silly, irrationally scary things.

His face slowly, agonizingly falls. “I’m sorry,” he cuts in. “I…That was…I—” “I don’t want to go,” I interrupt. His chest heaves up and down. “You don’t want to go.” “I don’t want to go,” I repeat, a slow smile spreading over my face. “I love you.” “You love me?” And there’s relief, sadness, then disbelief. I smile even wider. “I love you, Cliff.”

head. “I love you—you know that?” “You can tell me every minute of my life.”