Captive - FourTris

Forty-Four

SEPTEMBER 30
ONE MONTH

I'm at Tobias's house. Lately, our dates are stretching out, getting longer and longer and progressively closer to my supposed curfew.

He takes me to dinners and movies and walks and everywhere he can think of, but we always end up back here, unwilling to let it end until we have to.

I know my mum won't catch me if I stay late once in a while. But I'm afraid if I start pushing it, I'll never stop, and before I know it I'll just never leave his side.

His presence is incredibly ... addicting. When I'm around him, I can't stop smiling and laughing and staring at him, and he's the same way with me, and sometimes we can spend hours just staring at each other.

Sometimes I think the clock is actually ticking in my ear, it's so loud. I can never stop thinking about how fast it moves when I'm with him and how the end of it is always barreling toward me.

And it seems totally crazy that everything is happening like this, so fast. Just a month ago I didn't know him, and now he's infiltrating everything and he's all I think about when we're apart.

And so every day I wait for night, when I will be here, with him. Today we're playing Jenga, trying to get the tower taller than our record twenty-six layers. He has a pile of board games in his closet, crammed between basketballs, car magazines, cookbooks ... all his hobbies. I'm amazed by them, how he knows so much about so many things. It's my turn, and I keep cheating, sliding a block a little bit and then changing my mind and putting it back, and it's become a joke. I get one halfway out before the tower starts to lean, and then I push it back and watch the whole thing wobble, a wicked grin on my face as he watches me more than the tower. It's intense, sometimes, that feeling of his eyes on me. I'm the only thing in the world to him. We can be in a store or a restaurant or anywhere, and he always watches me over anything else.

This is so much fun. Every moment of it.

I think I have it made as I easily slide a piece out—my sixth choice—but as I pick it up I manage to hook the edge of the tower and the whole thing topples, and I laugh and throw the pieces into the air.

"Gah! I suck at this," I say, and then lie back on the ground and toss my remaining piece in the air, the one I'd so carefully selected.

He leans over, his face just inches from mine.

"I try so hard to let you beat me, but I still keep winning." His breath is warm on my face and smells minty, like he brushed his teeth right before I came over. And then he kisses me and I forget all about the game and the blocks crammed underneath my back and legs, and I lose myself in it.

When it's over, and he pulls away just a few inches, I grin at him and he smiles back.

"Where've you been all my life?" he says, finally sitting upright again.

"Waiting for you," I say, only half joking. I toss a Jenga block at him and it bounces off his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "This just seems too perfect to be real. You are too perfect."

I shake my head. "No. I'm really not. You just haven't known me long enough to see my flaws. I assure you, they're plentiful."

I'm still half joking, and he laughs and kisses me again. "I don't care. I love you."

The room goes dead silent, and his eyes widen just the tiniest bit, like he realizes too late what he'd just said aloud.

Three words I haven't heard in years, not from anyone, not even my mum. Three tiny little words that make me feel so big. He can't mean it. I rush to fix it. "It's okay, I mean, I can just pretend like you didn't—"

"No," he says. "No, don't pretend like I didn't say it. I mean it. I do love you. And it's okay that you don't say it yet because I know it's been so fast, and it's okay if you don't feel it yet, but I want you to know, I love you."

I swallow and nod my head, wondering if I'm ready for this, wondering if I can handle him being in love with me.

But I'm also wondering if I'm already in love with him. Because these things I feel, they're so strong, so overwhelming, and there are times I can't stand to be away from him. Times I have to leave because it's 10:50 and I'm about to miss curfew, and yet I don't want to leave, and my goody-goody side wars with my absolute desire to throw every last rule away and just stay and hope my mum doesn't even notice.

He kisses me again and we lean back against his bed, our fingers intertwined. I see our reflection in the mirror across from us, and I wonder: is it too soon to be thinking forever?