When I had gone over there, drunk, and confessed my love to her, I had known I was changing our dynamic. Sure, we’d both felt that pull the universe refused to let us dodge. I’d held her in my arms at night and probably hugged her too long sometimes. Looked at her in her bikini more than I should have. Kept most guys away from her simply because they knew she was mine even if she technically wasn’t. But when she told me to be her first, a voice in my head was screaming she wasn’t ready for that. It told me that if I did this, we’d never come back from it. Selfishly, I did it anyway. How the
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