Worth the Risk

Chapter forty-four

Love is like a casino. Instead of gambling with money, you gamble with your heart. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Sometimes it's a little and sometimes it's a lot.

I started to gamble when I kissed Colin yesterday and with every moment that passes, every glance, every touch, every kiss I include another piece of my heart in the game.

Am I petrified? Yes. I'm scared to lose the part of my heart I'm already gambling with.

Do I keep reminding myself of how it feels to lose a gamble? Yes.

Is that the reason why I feel like I'm dying inside from nervousness as I ring his doorbell? Absolutely because as I stand here waiting I realize I'm going in blind. We haven't talked about what last night meant because I had to rush my way to brunch with my dad.

I don't know what my being here means. Maybe it's a date. It feels like a date but it might as well be a booty call. He asked me to 'come over'. Maybe it's a code word for 'I like the sex part' but then he asked me to come to watch his soccer game like it would be a date or something resembling that. Do you do that if it's just sex? Or maybe he invited me to his soccer game on a friendship level. Like I would invite Brooke or Lucie to a track competition.

I snap out of my train of thought as I feel the cardboard of the box of chocolates in my hands tear underneath my nail from fidgeting with it. Is it lame that I bought a box of chocolates? Is it too much? Does it scream 'I want this to be a date' too obviously?

Shit. Probably.

Although, he bought me chocolates on our not-date three years ago. It could be friendly. It's possible to give someone chocolates pure platonically.

I stare at the box, letting the memories it revives mock me.

Good gracious, I really am a bad liar.

I laugh at the thought, feeling tingles spread across my stomach as memories of our first date three years ago flash before my eyes. I refused to call it a date back then because when you say things aloud they become real. If I called it a date aloud I wouldn't be able to call him just a friend anymore.

If I said it aloud platonic would become complicated, and friends would become friends with hidden messages in between every letter.

So I called it nothing. I didn't use labels.

But then he shoved his heart into my hands with his confession of wanting more and every single feeling in my heart became heart-wrenchingly real.

F. I like it when you spin one of your short curls around your finger when you're thinking.

R. I like it when your face lights up when you talk about the things you're passionate about. As if you can't hold in the joy it gives you.

I. Even though it scares me, I like that you can make me comfortable enough to share some of my thoughts.