Episode 45| Love is Confusing

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Sophia's P.O.V.

"What did you say?" My head whipped around and I got on to my elbows, staring at him over my shoulder.

Had I heard him correctly? I was relaxing into a resting position when Bryce said those seven weighted words, striking my ear drums and making the air feel thick.

I think I'm in love with you, Sophia, he had whispered.

The "I think" struck me as a shock, more than the other loaded words. There wasn't any hesitation in his voice, no trembling nature in the way it fell from it lips - despite the phrase it self would make someone think he was questioning his own statement. The way he said "I think" was as confident as his "I am."

His facial features had softened, showing me how low his guard was. I had never seen him so vulnerable than in that moment.

Truth be told, I didn't know if I had ever seen Bryce say anything in a timid fashion. I shouldn't be that amazed at his confidence. It was there before.

How could he mean it though? I could count the number of weeks we've known each other on my hands. It wasn't more than two months. By saying this, that didn't mean I couldn't imagine reaching that point with him. Of course I did.

Bryce cleared his throat. "I said I think I'm in love with you," he reiterated, cracking a smile at me that lit up his face. "I thought I said it to myself, but I guess I was thinking out loud a little too much." He softly laughed.

"I can't say that back," I responded, hating myself for not being able to say what I knew he was hoping I would.

His laughter stopped abruptly and that smile of his that I adored had gone with it.

"But," I continued to say, "I know I'll be able to eventually."

"No rush. I get it," Bryce said coolly, sitting up and scooting to get to his pile of clothes. He found his pair of jeans and slid them on, then followed by his shirt.

"Where are you going?" I asked, observing how fast he was getting dressed. I went to my discarded clothes and started to put them on, too, when he didn't reply to me right away.

Not saying a word, Bryce waited until I pushed the sleeves of my shirt through my arms. Once I'd done that, we walked back to his apartment with this unbearable air between us that made the space appear dense.

He stayed two steps ahead of me the whole way back to his place, not bothering to say a word or glance in my direction.

After unlocking the door, Bryce said, "I'm going to take a shower before bed. You're welcomed to use the downstairs bathroom if you want to take one, too. There should be extra towels in there if you need them. If you don't see any, check the hallway closet. That's where I keep spare towels, pillows, and blankets."

He told me this without looking at me, studying the stairway that led to his bedroom as if it held the answers of the world. I was about to thank him for his suggestion, but he was already three quarters up the stairs by the time the words came out of my mouth.

"Thank y....ou." But he was gone by that point, inside of his room and far from where I stood in the foyer.

•••

The shower didn't help. Whenever I take showers, I over-analyze and overthink about every thing that happened that day. It was where the worst ideas came from and when the most pain staking memories resurfaced like a bad yearbook photo.

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