Confession: I miss you.””Ian …””Confession: you’re my best friend.””Please stop.””Confession: if you gave me the chance, I’d love you until forever.”I swallowed hard as I watched him walk toward me. I was standing right in the middle of pig manure, doing the most disgusting job, looking as if I hadn’t slept in days, and Ian Parker was telling me how he wanted to love me forever.He continued on. “Confession: you are my sun, my moon, and my stars. Confession: whatever’s hurting you, we can fix together. Confession: I’m never going to give up on this.”I didn’t know how it happened. I didn’t know how my hands found his or how our bodies became pressed together. I didn’t know how his forehead fell to mine of how my heartbeats increased erratically.I didn’t know how his lips fell so close to mine or how his exhalations became my inhalations. But there we were, seconds away from our lips locking together, and me falling into a drunkenness that I’d never be able to recover from. If I started kissing Ian, I knew I’d never be able to stop.He was it for me.He was the hook, the bridge, and the melody.
― Brittainy C. Cherry,
The Wreckage of Us
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