I hold my breath as he glides his fingers down wrist and up my arm, up my shoulders, up my neck, and finally he stops at my cheek. I lean into his warm touch. He’s gentle as his other hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling my closer. I smile as I pull back just before our lips touch. His nose crinkles in that cute way that reminds me of the bunny I used to own back when I was a child. I rise to my tippy-toes, kissing his nose. He doesn’t pull away as I did. He’s not afraid of becoming attached because he already is.

            I smile again as he tries to pull me into a kiss again. I sigh a slightly weary sigh as I give in, just this once. I think he notices, but he doesn’t comment. He never does. Because he believes he’s in love. Ah, this probably isn’t fair. But it does feel nice, I’ll admit. It feels nice to be loved after not feeling it for years.

            He pulls me into one more kiss, one more guilt-ridden kiss, and I decide tomorrow I will tell him. Tell him myself that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t working out. For now I’ll just let him love me. Because it feels nice.