||Twenty-Seven||
"Do you love him?" He asks me again, this time taking a step closer.
Immediately, I take a step back.
I stare at him. Something has shifted in his gaze and I can't quite tell what it is, and yet even though I know I shouldn't answer his question, I do... "Yes," I reply. "I love him..."
"Are you in love with him?"
A memory flashes in my mind for a split second. A memory that makes me take a deep breath and a step back.
"Are you in love with him, Im?" His voice is almost desperate as he steps closer and searches my face for some sort of response, some sort of emotion, something.
How the hell did we get here? I ask myself. How the hell did I let a conversation about the ocean turn into something so damn serious?
"There's a difference between loving someone and being in love with them," I repeat the same words he told me eight years ago, and even though I know I shouldn't, I keep going. "I'm in love with him, Justin. I'm in love with him."
YOU ARE READING
Rooftops
General FictionThey fell in love when they were young, in a city that never felt like home, at a time in their lives when they both knew nothing could be serious. But five years later, they met again, this time not on the side of the road, but on a rooftop.
