“Hey, look at me,” he words crept into the darkened room. His hand sweeping my chin to face him. Through the pulsing wave of drunkenness and the thick night time air, I could still see his green eyes, the crease where his dimples carve into his face, and the way the corner of his lips tug to the side before he is about to say something.

“I love you,” he said.

Closing my eyes in a smile, a warmth spread through my chest. A relief. A verification that maybe my life can be this perfect.

“I love you too,” I replied, kissing his face.

It took no thought for me to give this promise, because although he may think that he was the one that said it first, I have been repeating it to him this past month. I whispered those words as his head rested on my chest. I whispered them when he brushed my hair out of my eyes and kissed my forehead. I whispered them when I realized that I have never been this truly happy in my life.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been this happy,” he slurred into my cheek, kissing my skin. He had no idea.