**YOUR POV**
I sit cross-legged on the deck. I glanced at all the stuff we had laying around: plastic wine glasses, snacks, sunscreen, Tom's necklace. I went over to the necklace, just before the stairs that lead down to the cabin.
He never takes it off, it must have come loose during his rampage down there.
I hold it in my hand, gripping it tight and holding the emblem against my bottom lip. It tasted like Tom's skin today: warm from the sun, salty from the sea, strawberry from my Chapstick running along his skin.
Today was perfect. We were both psyched to go without interruptions, but we're alone all the time. It's usually me & Tom, at home trying to make something or watching Netflix. We don't do couple-y things: we don't go on dates (paparazzi), don't go grocery shopping or to each other's family events.
We're like best friends who have amazing sex. And can talk for hours about the dumbest shit.
I sigh, realizing fully what my problem is. What Tom needs to hear from me to explain why I'm too scared to have someone like him be committed to someone like me.
I descend the stairs and knock on his door. It takes him a few seconds, but he finally calls me in.
"Hey," I say.
Tom forces a polite half-smile in response.
"So I owe you an explanation." I say.
Tom flinches in surprise, then stares at me evenly, waiting.
I take a deep breath. "I've never had a relationship that was as good as... what this is." I confess, sinking into the words. "Every time something is going good, I make it official and I change. I don't like myself when I'm in a relationship, or when I'm involved with anyone, really. Because I always think I'm giving them too much of myself and never getting the same effort back.
"So far, with you, it's different. You... you know that. I like who I am with you. I like the way I feel, the things I say, the way you challenge my outlook. Relationships have always turned love sour for me, that's been my experience. And it's not fair to you that I never explain it, so I'm doing my best now. But I still don't fully know what my problem is, to be clear."
Again, give me a break. I got my therapist on speed dial.
The way he's studying me makes me think he doesn't, but he's trying to, understand what I mean.
"(Y/N), everyone is afraid of getting hurt. Everyone." Tom stands, facing me. "Neither one of our past relationships have worked out. And thank God, I mean we wouldn't be on this boat if we were with those other people. This is the only place I want to be. All the time, any chance I can get it, I want you and me, and it's that simple."
I breathe in when he reaches for my hands and holds them in front of his. My whole body feels warmer.
"I want that, too." I finally admit out loud. I squeeze his hands. "I'll do this with you. I want to, I just... I may be behind on this stuff."
Tom smiles, lets go of my hand and rubs my cheek. "I don't care. We don't have to rush, I just want to be all in with you. I love you."
I gasp and instinctively pull away from him. His brows raise and he abruptly puts his arms around me.
"Sorry, we'll work into that," he laughs. I relax slightly. "No rush on that either, love."
I watch his face, his smile doesn't waiver. Thank God, baby steps are my speed. I relax into his arms, rest my head against his chest.
"I'll take the first step, start calling you the B word."
"... Bitch?"
I smile. "No, Tom, boyfriend."
