“About what?” I ask.
I know exactly what he’s talking about. I’m just trying to be breezy. Not knowing how I’m going to respond, that seems like the appropriate response.
“You know,” he says, “about what I said earlier.”
“Oh, right,” I say. “I’d forgotten about it, to be honest.”
“So you wouldn’t say that you feel anything like that for me?” he asks.
What are you doing here, boy?
“I think that we’re still learning how to be with each other,” I tell him. “I am very attracted to you—ensorcelled, really. I just think that people should be in a relationship for a pretty substantial amount of time before they start talking about love and diapers and crayons and snot all over the place and the dog’s chewed up everything, you know?”
“I’m not entirely sure that I do know,” he says.
“I’m just saying that we should wait and give it some more time to grow, give the relationship more time to grow. Then, if that’s how we’re both feeling, we can go from there,” I tell him.
“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” he says.
“First off, you can’t just add the word ‘phobe’ to the end of another word and expect that to create a psychological term,” I tell him. “Second off, you’re the one that said he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at all. Are you really going to push this?” I ask. “After everything that’s happened today, everything that’s been happening, is now really the time to have this particular conversation?”
He shakes his head, saying, “No. I don’t think this is the best time to do this.”
“Good,” I answer. “That’s settled, then.”
“Still horny?” he asks.
The question serves its purpose, as it gets me to smile.
“No,” I tell him. “I think I’m good.”
“All right,” he says. “Just one quick thing…”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“You never said how you would answer,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“You never said, gun to your head, if you absolutely had to, whether or not you’d say you love me or not,” he says.
“I thought we were dropping this,” I groan.
“We are,” he says. “I’ve just got that one question: do you love me?”
I scoff and turn away, but as I bring my gaze back to settle on him, I notice something that I haven’t before. It’s subtle, very subtle, but as I look at Damian’s expectant face, I see softness about him, and I feel a tender warmth and security with him.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“You’ve had a few minutes,” he says. “What’s your knee-jerk reaction?”
I narrow my eyes at him, looking for any sign of jest or insincerity, but if there’s any there, I don’t spot it.
“I’d say I’m closer to a yes than I am a no,” I tell him.
“What does that mean?” he asks.
“Yes is love, no is not love,” I answer brusquely. “I’m closer to a yes than a no, but that opinion is certainly changeable.”