FWB Friends With Baseball

You're Not Pregnant, Are You?.

Jailyn~

Sitting on the couch, I pat the space in front of me for Christian so we can get everything out there. The 'I'm in love with you' confession, playing over and over again in my head. How do I even want this conversation to go? What am I even expecting to come out of it? What happens if he admits it again? Where does that put me? There are just so many questions that I don't know, making this conversation that much more daunting than it is. 

"What's up?" Christian asks, sitting down and facing me, his arm resting on the top of the couch. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"What?" I ask, confused that that was his first question here, "No, god no. My IUD should be keeping us safe from that one for at least two more years." 

"Is it anything bad?" He asks next.

Shaking my head, my brow furrows a little as I push my hair that'd fallen into my face back, "No. It shouldn't be anyway. I'm just making sure we're not crossing lines or anything here." 

He's obviously confused as he asks, "What do you mean?" 

Blowing a little air out of my lips, I lean my elbow on the back of the couch, propping my head upon my hand. This shouldn't be as frustrating as it is, but how the hell do you ask someone what they meant when they told you they were in love with you in a drunken stupor? "I guess let's start with, what do you remember from the night of the World Series win?" 

My question doesn't help any of Christian's confusion, but he answers anyway, "Winning, obviously." His chuckle at that little factoid makes me smile, "Then we came back here and changed before we went out. We both got pretty drunk at the club. You were grinding on a random guy before I pulled you away," he grins. I can only assume thinking about where we went and what we did. "After that, not too much else, until my mom woke me up the next morning." Great. He's got no idea what he's said. Sighing, I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. This whole thing seems like it got that much more complicated than it already was. My shift in mood seems to catch his attention, "Why are you stressing about it now?" 

"Because I remember I good amount more of that night than you do," I tell him, trying not to sound frustrated over the seven thousand layers of this situation I'm trying to sort through. 

"Okay, and?" he asks, now trying to get to the bottom of whatever's bothering me this much. 

"And, you said some things. . ." I trail off, not sure how to continue to pursue this conversation. Looking down, I shake my head, "Right before we both passed out on the couch, you'd pulled me on top of you and said something along the lines of, 'Jailyn James, I'm in love with you, and I'm so glad you live with me, and, I'm in love with you.'"

When I look back at Christian, his face is hard as he, I assume, is trying to figure out what to say to me now too. What do I even want him to say right now? Do I want him to admit it to me now? Do I want to see where things go? As I'm sitting here waiting for him to reply, all I can think is that the answer to those last two questions is yes. "We tell each other 'I love you,' all the time?" 

"Christian," I say quieter than I'd been, "We both know that 'I love you' and 'I'm in love with you' mean two very different things." 

Christian nods, and I can tell he's uncomfortable right now. "Well, I don't really know what to say," He admits, before continuing, "I'm not going to say that I didn't say that. But I was obviously incredibly drunk, seeing as I don't remember it." 

"Right," I reply, trying to hide the disappointment I can't help but feel right now. Well, now I don't want to be the one to ruin a good thing, but I can't help but continue, "I don't know, I just, I guess, feel like we should get our feelings and shit out there since that came up. You were drunk, and I get that. I just don't want anything to get weird if that's how you actually feel."