I loosened my grip and allowed her to curl her side into my chest with her back against my bicep. My heart raced, and I stared into her eyes, trying to be certain I'd just heard her right.
I couldn't take in enough air.
My lungs wouldn't fill, and I worried I'd faint before I told her what I needed to say.
If I didn't get out the words I'd been dying to say for six years, it felt like my insides might combust, and I'd miss my chance. There'd been too many wasted opportunities and too many days that had passed without her knowing my heart belonged to her, and it always had.
Rather than a drawn-out explanation, or tiptoeing into the actual confession, I just spit it out. "I love you, Masyn. Since that day in the lunchroom, there hasn't been a piece of me that didn't belong to you."
I
