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It’s a dangerous game I’m playing and the logical side of me knows I should put a stop to it. I started bonding with her out of a need for distraction, and if I think on the situation for too long a sense of codependency prods at my fractures—the glue holding my pieces together entirely dependent on Blakely making them stick.
I push the food around on my plate, taking a bite here and there, my mind in turmoil over how to bring up the fact that if this is going to work with us, he needs to take my lifestyle choices seriously. That means stick to my prepped meals or having me pre-approve whatever he makes.
keep your eyes on me. I need to see you. Need to make sure you’re here with me.” She snaps them open, a thousand emotions swirling out of her gaze, matching the intensity of how I feel inside. And suddenly, I know what this is. This is love.
I’m not sure how things like this usually work, but in my head, I imagined telling her and us gushing together, my excitement bleeding into hers until she demanded every detail, her joy solely because someone is making me happy. But maybe that’s not how girlfriends work in real life.