It was then that he took my hand and pulled me towards him. I could feel his heart beat fast as he held me close to his chest. He kissed me on my forehead and held me tight. I’d never felt more safe or content in my entire life.

I knew this feeling though. I knew what it was like to have him comfort me, only to walk away like nothing happened. I didn’t know how to feel about it anymore. I longed for him and he was right there, with his arms around me. I still felt like he would not reveal himself to me. I wanted to be close to him and I was, technically speaking.

That was how he got me wasn’t it? We were so great together, weren’t we? Calm, sweet, silly. We felt comfortable around each other. He made me the perfect balance of relaxed with a side touch of nervous whenever I was near him. I knew I cared about how he saw me. I knew I would always care. A part of me wished I could just walk away from him. What is it that made me so attached to him? I wanted to believe I wasn’t a lovesick puppy that craved his attention and gobbled it up whenever he gave it to me, but I was. That is precisely what I was. I am that sad, beautiful puppy that you see in the ads and feel sorry for.

And until I demanded to be treated better, I would be there every time he called.


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