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Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I have never been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall.
It’s not even a smile—it doesn’t touch his eyes. It’s smile-adjacent. It shares a zip code with a smile, maybe goes to the same school and shops at the same neighborhood grocery store, but it is decidedly not a smile.
I look him right in the eye and summon all my saltiness. “Yeah, sorry, been busy.”
But after a while, you grow weary of beautiful.
“While I don’t take offense at the word ‘sappy,’ I prefer a word like… sentimental. Dare I say… romantic.”
The firelight hangs on to the angles of his face. The curve of his brow. The cut of his jaw. Everyone must realize how lovely their friends look in the light of a firepit on a beach at midnight. It’s one of the hallmarks of friendship, I’m pretty sure.
“I never laugh more than when I’m around you. And you were—you are so damn cute.”
“I’m starting to think you don’t value my opinion.” “Excuse me,” she says, faux-offended. “I absolutely do. It’s just not as meaningful as mine.”
“And sometimes the world is terrible, and love stories… They make it feel less heavy.”

