I laughed rolling my eyes. “I get it,” I responded, “You’re mom doesn’t like me, does she?” You stopped in the middle of the hallway. “What?” you asked, “What are you talking about?” I could tell you were trying so hard to hide it. You didn’t want me to get hurt; you would never want to hurt me.
“Come on,” I sighed, the smile finally dropping off my face, “I know. I can tell. Anytime you have to go talk to your mother or whatever and I offer to go, you tell me no. You tell me to stay here, you’ll be right back. You don’t want me to be around your mother anymore. Because she doesn’t like me.”
You frowned too and placed your hand on the base of my neck. “Darling,” you said staring at me with your big concerned eyes scanning every inch of my face, “My mother can be rather judgmental, and I just don’t want you to get hurt.”  I knew that, or course I knew that.
“It’s just that you’re nothing like Natasha,” you finished.
I took a step back letting your hand drop away from my body. I let out a single bitter laugh like a short burst of air. So that’s what this was about.
“Natasha? My best friend, Natasha? Your ex-girlfriend, Natasha?”
You frowned stepping towards me and I took that same step back. You stopped and let your eyes drop to the ground hurt emanating from you. I didn’t mean to; I just needed to be a singular person right now.
You continued though I wasn’t willing to hear it.
“My mother. She liked Natasha. She was hoping that we were forever, but we weren’t. Then I showed up with you. A completely different person. The complete and beautiful opposite. She was so quiet, so innocent, so soft spoken. And you. You are a tornado. You are sarcastic, and driven, and a leader. My mother, I think, saw some of herself in Natasha, and when she sees you, she’s reminded of who she could’ve been but wasn’t brave enough to try. So, no, she doesn’t like you. But I do. And I’m not going to let her dictate what’s going to happen to my future. So are we going to see my mother or not?”
My feet began moving on their own accord and I found myself standing in front of you. I placed my hand on your cheek and you smiled. In that smile, I could see everything—love, hope, struggles, and a future. My throat closed up and I felt my heart pound against the rib cage. I could finally feel it.
“Hey, babe,” I whispered not to be dramatic but because I physically can’t make my voice get any louder, “You know that thing you told me not to say until I was ready?” I let my hand fall but you took my wrist and put it over your heart. It was pounding to the same rhythm as mine. You didn’t say anything, you didn’t nod. But you didn’t need to. You had taken the first step. Now, it’s my turn to level the playing field.

“Johnson, I love you.”