A Very Large Expanse of Sea(48)

He blinked.

“It isn’t fair,” I said quietly. “You’re clearly in pain over this, and they don’t seem to give a shit.”

Ocean looked away. “Wow.” He laughed. “No one’s ever framed it for me like that before.”

“I just wish you’d take your own side. You’re so worried about everyone else,” I said. “But I’m going to worry about you, okay? I get to worry about you.”

Ocean went still. His eyes were inscrutable as he looked at me. And when he finally said, “Okay,” it sounded like a whisper.

I faltered.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Was that mean? Everyone’s always telling me how mean I am, but I don’t really do it on purpose, I just wanted t—”

“I think you’re perfect,” he said.

We were both quiet on the drive back. We sat together in a comfortable silence until, eventually, Ocean turned on the radio. I watched him, his hands coated in moonlight, as he picked out a song, the contents of which I wouldn’t hear and wouldn’t remember.

My heart was far too loud.

He texted me, much later that night.

i miss you

i wish i could hold you right now

I looked at his words for a while, feeling too much.

i miss you too

so much

I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. My lungs felt tight. I was wondering about that, wondering why it was that feeling good made it so hard to breathe, when my phone buzzed again.

i really love that you’d worry about me i was beginning to feel like no one ever worried about me And something about his honesty broke my heart.

Then—

is that weird?

to want someone to worry about you?

not weird

just human

And then I called him.

“Hi,” he said. But his voice was soft, a little faraway. He sounded tired.

“Oh— I’m sorry—were you sleeping?”

“No, no. But I’m in bed.”

“Me too.”

“Under the covers?”

I laughed. “Hey, it’s this or nothing, okay?”

“I’m not complaining,” he said, and I could almost see him smile. “I’ll take whatever you’re offering.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You sound so sleepy.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I don’t know. I’m tired, but I feel so happy.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You make me so happy.” He took a deep breath. Laughed a little. “You’re like a happy drug.”

I was smiling. I didn’t know what to say.

“You there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m here.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I wish you were here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’d be great.”

He laughed and said, “Why?”

I had a feeling we were both thinking the same thing and neither one of us was saying it. But I’d wanted to kiss him all night. I’d been thinking about it a lot, actually. I’d been thinking about his body, the way it felt to have his arms around me, wishing we’d been alone longer, wishing we’d had more time, wishing for more. More of everything. I often daydreamed about him being here, in my room. I wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up in him, to fall asleep in his arms. I wanted to experience all kinds of moments with him.

I thought about it, all the time.

Somehow, I knew he was hoping I’d say this to him. Out loud. Tonight. Maybe right now. It scared the crap out of me.

But then, he so often took that leap for me.

Ocean had always been so honest about his feelings. He told me the truth about how he felt even when everything was uncertain, when I otherwise would’ve stayed silent forever.

So I tried to be brave.

“I miss you,” I said quietly. “I know I saw you a few hours ago but I already miss you. I want to see your face. I want to feel your arms around me,” I said, and closed my eyes. “You feel so strong and you make me feel safe and I just— I think you’re amazing,” I whispered. “You’re so wonderful that sometimes I honestly can’t believe you’re real.”

I opened my eyes, the hot phone pressed against my flushed cheek, and he said nothing and I was relieved. I let the quiet devour me. I listened to him breathe. His silence made me feel like I was suspended in space, like I’d been dropped into a confessional.

“I really wanted to kiss you tonight,” I said softly. “I wish you were here.”

Suddenly, I heard him sigh.

It was more like a long, slow exhale. His voice was tight, a little breathless, when he finally said, “There’s really no chance of you getting out of your house right now, is there?”

I laughed and said, “I wish. And trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

“I don’t think you’ve thought about it as much as I have.”

I was smiling. “I think I should go,” I said to him. “It’s like three in the morning.”

“Really?”