“I like you,” I say in a small voice. I’m not sure I’m ready for what comes after that. The other word is too foreign, too grand. “You know I like you. Why can’t that be enough?” “Because I—I loved you, okay?” He presses his lips together, like he didn’t mean to say it. I loved you. That word does something to my heart. I loved you. Past tense. “I loved you for a while, knowing you didn’t feel the same way,” he continues. “Then, when I thought there might be a chance, you confirmed over and over that you were never going to return those feelings. You went out of your way to tell me, even when
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