Nothing Like the Movies

I am just Wes fucking Bennett, Lib, the guy who can't remember a single day in his life when he didn't love you.

In your dreams, Bennett,” she teased. “Every damn night, Buxbaum,

I exist to exist alongside of you.

There was never anyone else for me but you.

But just know that no matter what you decide, and no matter what happens, I will feel this way about you for the rest of my life.

There will never be anyone else for me. Hard stop. So go have your think and do what you need to do. But Lizzie--we are worth the risk. We always will be.

It’d been better than the movies, I swear to God.

When I saw you get hit, I realized there isn't anything confusing about it at all. I love you. Of course I love you; you're Wes. You are the only boy I've ever loved in my entire life.

And you've screwed me up, Lib, because now I'm thinking in lyrics instead of original thoughts. I'm look at you and trying to find the words to convince you to be with me, and do you know what comes into you head? You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else. They aren't my words, I don't even know what song of album they're from, for God's sake, but it's exactly how I feel. And you taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else-like, I can't remember who wrote that, but I feel it down to the marrow in my bones. Being with you has changed the threads of my existence, I swear to God, so now being without you makes everything quieter, dimmer and duller. So. Much. Smaller.

It was time to get Liz Buxbaum back.

Do you know how many 12:13s I've watched pass without you? Tonight it'll be the seven hundred and twentieth," I said, the words burning my throat. "The last thing in the world I want is to say something that makes that number infinite, but I also can't let you erase our history. I don't want to remember the bad parts, but I refuse to forget the good.

I can’t breathe without you, but I have to . . .

Her smile was the same knee-weakening smile that she’d given me the first time she said she loved me, in the parking lot of the animal shelter in Ogallala, Nebraska.

You're looking at me like I'm nuts, honey, and you're right. I am. I am out of my mind when it comes to you." I said, shrugging because it was a fact. "When I'm near you, the way I feel steals the breath from my body. It's like I breathe for you. like I exists to exist alongside of you. I know those feelings are probably too big and too scary and put way too much pressure on you, and I'm sorry for that. Truly. But it's the way I feel. The way I've always felt.

You’re the only thing I know like the back of my hand . . .

No one wore lovesick like my Libby.

I’m not sure if things got quiet or loud, blurry or hyperfocused, but I know the universe changed as I looked at Liz, everything melting into impressionistic streaks of fuzzy background colors.

It felt like a thousand memories of her—smiling at me, laughing with me, tangled up in my arms in my dorm room—swirled together and crashed into my lungs like a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball.

I love you. Of course I love you; you're Wes. You are the only boy I've ever loved in my entire life.

Wes: I just wanted to say hi because you’re on my mind. Wes: Have a great day. Also—I just listened to “You Could Start a Cult” by Lizzy and Niall, and if you haven’t heard it, seems like a Buxbaum song. And he dropped a link. Damn him. How could he possibly know?

He lifted his head and looked down at me, his dark eyes flashing with intensity. “Say it again.” I swallowed as his hands pressed mine into the door. I looked into his eyes and said, “I love you.” “Again,” he growled, his voice quiet, his eyes dark. He leaned his weight more heavily onto his palms and his body, into me, his throat moving around a swallow as he watched me. “I love you, Wes Bennett,” I confessed, wondering how I’d ever thought it was possible to deny this. “I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love you.

Nothing said school was back in session like nearly getting run over by an e-scooter.

In your dreams, Bennett," she teased. "Every damn night, Buxbaum,

I was carpe diem–ing the crap out of my life, throwing myself into every single moment because I knew firsthand how fleeting those moments could be.

But I trust you,” he said, turning around and walking backward. “I don’t want to discuss this with anyone, ever, but if I have to, I’d choose you over anyone else.

But I knew, as I sat alone on the deck at midnight, staring at the orange tip of a Swisher while everyone inside the house yelled ‘Happy New Year,’ that I’d never forgive myself for what my words had done to her face.

He had on glasses—he only wore those when his eyes got tired—and his blue baseball cap was on backward, making him look… gaaaaah so annoying.

No, sir, I was greedily grabbing with both hands and never letting go.