Until We Meet Again

14. more than friends

The next day, I'm tugging my pillow in front of me as if it'll replace my strong urge to be close to another human being. Specifically, someone with long brown hair, a bright smile, and the name Delilah. Over night, my emotions have changed toward her.

It's like I'm 13 again.

I'm obsessing over her. I'm craving her attention and her heart and her. I'm wishing that time hadn't passed and that this awkward change in years hadn't kept us from each other. What if she liked me back then? What if she likes me now?

Our meeting yesterday could have changed everything for her, in a good way I hope. Now that she's back, it's like my previous doubts and anger and concerns and fears have relaxed. They're not gone, but they've stepped back. And now, my blooming crush toward her has come forward.

It's embarrassing, if I'm being honest. I once loved her, I once told her I hated her, and once upon a time, I'm back to a proposed lover who has no idea I want her to be mine. Things change fast, what if these emotions go away too?

Yet, I find myself remembering that they've left and come back multiple times before. They were never steady, just like Delilah's presence in my hometown. Maybe I should just turn my feelings into words and actions.

Then they'll finally stick around forever. And I hope she does too.

At least right now, I'm alone. Madison is at another party tonight, and I'm jealous of her for that. I've learned that alcohol is not great for me after what happened the last time I consumed too much of it. But I wish it could be. It could ease my mind, and erase the thoughts in my brain. All these words inside of me are being printed in black ink right on the wall in front of me, I may as well build a shrine for the past. I never thought that the past would ever come back to me.

At that moment, I hear a new type of knocking on the wooden door. I'm familiar with the different kinds; the loud booming pounding belongs to the security guard, while Nina's is a light tapping and Madison's is nonexistent as she doesn't bother with a warning. This sound though, it's a moderate noise with continuous touches on the surface. Almost like the person doubts whether I'll hear them or let them in.

It's unusual, and so I decide to get up for myself to open the door rather than simply yelling that they can come in. We rarely have our door locked, but now I wonder if I should. When I swing open the door, I find that it's Delilah. Her hair is in a messy bun today (something I've never fully mastered), and she's in plain blue jeans with an oversized striped violet shirt and white Vans.

Of course. It's like she knows I was thinking about her. Almost as if I summoned her.

She smiles at me, and says, "I had a hard time looking for your room."

I recall giving her my university's name, as well as the building I live in, but how did she find me? She seems to notice the puzzled look on my face, and adds, "I asked the people at the front desk for it. They said only family members and partners were allowed to ask for the specific rooms of students so I—"

"Said you're my sister?" I ask her.

"No, they asked for ID. I said I was your girlfriend," and she seems to blush at being put on the spot like that.

Like what she did was so wrong for saying such a lie. Plenty of friends lie like that in order to find out which dorm someone lives in but knowing that Delilah did that makes me want to run wild. She chose to do that instead of simply asking me for my dorm number. She said the words, "your girlfriend."

My girlfriend.

I clear my throat to try to add some noise to this already awkward silence, and I ask her, "what are you here for? Not that I don't want you here! I— I'm just wondering what you need?"

I feel like a fool. She quietly laughs at me, like she enjoys seeing me all flustered this way. She always liked seeing me that way back then too.

She could never resist trying to make me laugh or smile. It was a talent of hers, she always wanted to make my days brighter. She put me at ease.

"I'm here to give this to you," she says loudly this time.

She pulls out a thin square piece of paper out of the pocket of her blue jeans, and hands it to me. I look it over, and a section of history is back with me. It's the photo of Delilah of I that I had lost some time ago that used to belong to that small space in my silver locket.

The top left corner of it has been folded over, and when she notices me looking it over, she tells me, "sorry about that. It must have gotten like that on the walk here."

I don't know much about who she is now, that may be true. But I'm certain in this moment that she's still the same Delilah. The photo is a reminder of who we used to be, and here we are now, in a place where everything yet nothing has changed.

I grab my locket from my desk, and carefully insert the photograph into the piece of jewelry. It feels like it's back at its home, and when I look at Delilah who's clearly staring at me while thinking I haven't noticed, I realized that I feel like I'm at peace with her too.

There's so many questions I have for her and things I still want to know, but I'm okay with this. I'm okay with her and where we are right now. I'm okay with the way she grabs my hand and takes it into hers like they were always meant to be held together.

It's a feeling like no other, and one I always imagined in this fluttering romantic sense. We held hands in the past when crossing the street together or getting into class when the bell was about to ring, but this is unique. It's just us, and we're in the sole company of each other.

I feel like I've gone through numerous plays on how to make myself appealing to her in the past, but here I don't have to do anything. She lays a gentle kiss on my hand like we're in a movie, and she tells me, "this is going to sound dumb, but I like you."

It's all I've ever wanted to hear. She's all I've ever desired in my dreams and in life. This is far more than what I could have imagined.

I hope that she can continue to picture me in a greater light and that she doesn't feel betrayed when the darkness settles in and we're not in a blissful state of mind like we are right now. What will happen when the first hits of love that are running through our heads begin to fade away?

I find myself realizing that right now, I don't care about searching for that answer. I'm stuck in this large lovesick ocean that I've drowned myself in, and I think that I could stay in it forever. I can't escape this right now.

I finally say to her, "I like you too. I've liked you since we were kids and I've liked you since you came back."

"I realized I liked you from the moment I left," she tells me.

It sounds so perfect.

But I ask her, "is it too late for. . . This?"

It seems like reality as won for now. I think I've ruined the moment because she responds, "Do you not want this?"

"I— I do. I've wanted this for so long, you have no idea. But I'm nervous, I can't lie."

"Do you like me?" She obviously knows that answer and when I nod, she adds, "and I like you, so that's all that matters right now. We can worry about everything else later. But I can let this go if you want, we can be friends. Whatever you choose."

She's waiting for me to give her an answer, and I already know what I'm going to say before the words come out of my mouth, "I don't want to be just friends. I want something more. I want you."

There comes that smile again.

Finally!