"I think I love him," I say, shoegazing.
"Pfft, come on, Amanda," she says, derisive.
"What? We've spent every day together for two whole fucking months now."
"I know," she says, laughing, "I didn't scoff because I think it's invalid--I scoffed because obviously you love him. Obviously you love eachother."
Here is where I blush and stutter.
"You think he's in love with me?"
"Absolutely."
Fast forward to five thirty in the morning, when it's pouring outside and the wind is beating against everything. "Sounds windy and fun outside," I said, and then he said, "I'm down."
"Do you mean you enjoy the rain also, or that you will come outside and play with me?"
"I'll come play," he says, all big honey brown eyes, because he catches the little cues everyone else misses.