If Fire Was A Lover

February 5th, 2021

Logan had gone back to pretending that I did not exist. I was sure he was sitting at home with another girl in his bed. I was sure that she was taller and thinner than me. I knew he was laughing to himself about how pathetic I was. I knew him, unfortunately. Blake had started coming over every single day with my favorite drink and a flower. By the end of the week I had a whole bouquet. He came by early that morning with a mocha and a ring. It was beautiful, it was silver and looked like octopus tentacles wrapping around the finger. The ring was so detailed and very heavy, and I wore it proudly when he slipped it onto my finger.

"Blake, this is beautiful. I love it."

"I hoped you would," he smiled at me and traced my hand with his fingertips. I loved how gentle he was with me, it gave me hope for mankind. His touch was never something I feared, it was never something that brought tears to my eyes. His touch was kind and very modest, and I appreciated him for that. Most boys did not know how to touch a girl without making it something intimate, but Blake was never like that. He didn't care to be intimate with me, he just wanted to be around me, to spend time together, to live and exist in the same room as one another.

"Elizabeth, I don't want anyone else. I just want you." Blake said softly. "Can I have you? And can you just have me?" He asked.

"Blake, you know I like you a lot, I just can't date, I'm not ready for that." I said quietly.

"That's okay, it's okay. Just tell me I'm the only one, I want to be the only one who gives you rings and stays until you fall asleep, I want to be the only one who brings your favorite drinks and spends time with your family." He said to me.

"You are, trust me, you are." I told him. He pulled me in for a hug and wrapped his arms around my waist. I held him like a breath, I couldn't quite breathe out. I didn't want to. I didn't lie to him. He was the only one who brought me flowers and silver gifts and my favorite coffee. And Logan was the only one too. He was the only one who hit me and got away with it. He was the only one who used my body up until it did not exist. He was the only one who could kill me by saying three words. He was the only one, he always would be the only one, and I knew that, and I hated him for it.

"I'm so happy to have met you, Elizabeth." Blake said.

"I'm happy I met you, I'm glad you came here all the way from California. I know it was probably more exciting there, but selfishly, I'm happy you ended up here." I told him.

"Small towns aren't so bad, it turned out. Not when they have someone like you." He smiled at me. "Tell me something about you that I don't know," he said. He laid down on my bed and I stayed standing, pacing around the room trying to think of what to say.

"Well, when I'm upset, I like to sit in sinks." I said.

Blake laughed, "Wait, what?" He asked.

I smiled down at him. "If I'm ever upset, I go to the bathroom and I sit in the sink. I like to hold myself and look in the mirror and start daydreaming." I told him.

"Does it make you feel better?" He asked me.

"Sometimes." I told him. "Most of the time it's just that it's such a familiar thing to do, and that's what makes me feel better." I explained.

"That seems like a very you thing to do." He said.

"I guess it is." I replied. "Your turn," I said. "Tell me something about you that I don't know, something about you that nobody else knows." I smiled at him.

"Well when you look at me like that, how am I ever supposed to keep a secret again?" He asked. I shrugged my shoulders and laughed. He took a deep breath in, and a long breath out. "I'm a very scared person." He said.

I looked at him and caught his gaze. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm just always worried. Sometimes I worry that I'm not good enough, sometimes I worry that something bad might happen to someone I love. But my biggest fear, something only you may know, is that I might become my father someday." Blakes words were quiet and honest, and I sat down next to him on the bed.

"I think you're more than enough." I told him. "And you don't have to become the people that raised you. Not if you don't want to," I said. He smiled at me, his eyes looked relieved like he was glad to have finally said it out loud. I was glad too, I was happy he felt safe enough to tell me a secret. And when I heard his secret, I knew he understood me. We were both afraid of becoming our fathers, among other things. I got it, and he got it, and we sat next to each other on my bed and just breathed, and it was lovely.

"I think you're perfect." He said to me, and he meant it, I could tell. There was no anterior motive behind his words, he was not masking cruel intentions. He was just a boy and I was just a girl, and he thought I was beautiful. He didn't try to make anything come out of his compliments, he just said them because he wanted to. He didn't try to unzip my pants with his sweet words, no. He was trying to show me that genuine love was real, and that I deserved it.

"You remind me of a book, a really beautiful, captivating book. And I want to read you over and over again." I whispered. He looked at me and smiled, his eyes suddenly glued to mine, a gaze neither of us was brave enough to break. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but I was terrified of what might come after. I stood up quickly and told him I had tons of homework to do.

"Enjoy your coffee, and don't wear yourself out. I'll see you soon," Blake said and left.