Long After

You aren’t running from me, are you?” (Chase) Her eyes meet mine and she smiles softly. “No. No running.” “Good,” I say. “Because, regardless of my name, with this hard-on, I don’t think I could chase you.

I think this is what love must be like. That one person that’s always inside your head, running through your thoughts before you even realize you’re thinking about them. That person you like thinking about all the time because the image of her makes you smile. The one that has you counting time by how soon you can see her again. The one that makes you feel good just by sharing the same air. The only one you want to touch your fingertips to and relish the sensation of her skin against yours. To kiss. To really kiss—mouths, lips, tongues, teeth, breaths. Eyes closed and world blocked out.

Oh, joy. It’s going to be that kind of visit,” he says flatly. “Hold on. Let me gather all the fucks I give.” He pats his pockets and then his chest. “Okay, done,” he finishes, holding out empty palms. “What else do you want to complain about?

Nobody is perfect until you fall in love with them.

Love. It turns you into a murder planning lunatic with a penchant for stalking.

I want you to be sure I’m who you want. Because I’m not playing around here. I’m all in. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, and I’m at the point that I don’t really give a shit anymore. But I’m putting it out there so at least you understand how I feel.

I didn’t kiss you just then because I fucking care about you. I’ve cared about you for a long time. When I kiss you for the first time, it’s not going to be overpowered with grief and trepidation. And you aren’t going to jump when I touch you.” I bring my hand up, grazing it along her cheek. She trembles and I don’t know how to take that. “You can be pissed at me all you want—I’m used to it—as long as you understand that I wanted to kiss you. That it’s a struggle, even right now, to keep myself from tasting you. Shit, Annie. It’s always been a struggle with you. But I want your lips healed. Your heart whole. And I want you to be sure I’m who you want. Because I’m not playing around here. I’m all in. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, and I’m at the point that I don’t really give a shit anymore. But I’m putting it out there so at least you understand how I feel.” I push

Screw this love shit. I’m done. Love isn’t a cure-all. It’s a fucking disease.

That’s crazy, right? No, there’s crazy, there’s fucked up, and then there’s me. I’m all alone on this level of insanity.