The Amazing Part Is
You’re in love with a beautiful boy, and the amazing part is that he loves you back. He’s all dark honey eyes and buttermilk skin, moles down his neck that he lets you kiss and kiss again. He’s all sharp laughter and too wide sweeps of his arms, and it’s been ten months but you’re not thinking about your first anniversary you’re thinking about forever.
He tells you about the town he’s from, and you know those years growing up are built into the bedrock of him. But you also know that there are reasons he’s not going back. Things happened there that were the kind of bad he’s only come to terms with half way. He won’t quite tell you what they are, but he gives you the outlines: Erica, Boyd, Allison. You think it may have been something to do with drugs, definitely sounds like gangs. That was all a long time ago, though. You don’t hold it against him. How could you?
You don’t live together but you have a toothbrush in his bathroom. There’s a side of his bed that’s yours, a phone charger and two old glasses of water on the nightstand. When you say you love him, he smiles and he says, “I love you, too,” so brightly, like you’re a quick student who got the right answer. He says it like he’s pleased with you, like a reward. He doesn’t say it first, but then he isn’t particularly romantic. He’s fun and he can be thoughtful, but he doesn’t do lovey-dovey. He doesn’t do intense. Stiles is flighty, almost weightless in his constantly flitting attention. But you have a toothbrush in his bathroom, and you love him.