between two covers

“Stop teasing me about this, I can’t tell you. That’s the beauty of a diary – to be a secret.” He kept making fun of my pink little notebook. “Plus, you wouldn’t understand.”

“But I thought we said no secrets,” he fired back as I hid the diary behind my back.

“I know, but…” I couldn’t even think of a reason not to tell him. But I love to keep him in suspense, so I prolonged the silence as long as I could. And then: “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

I opened the diary and flipped to page 1.

“11.11.2009,” I took a deep breath. “Mark took me out for dinner to that Italian place I told him I love. [He’s a good listener.] It’s been awhile since we’ve started dating but I like the way we’re taking it slow – makes me enjoy every second of falling in love with him…and work out past things.

The meal was good, as usual. And Mark was amazing. [Even more than usual.] He never let me out of his sight, held my hand while we were talking and laughed at my jokes.

He gave me a ride home. And walked with me to the front door. And to the bedroom door as well. A gentleman, I have to say. I imagined my first night with him to be like a scene from a movie. But...things being the way they were, it was nothing like that. And yet, it was perfect.

We walked in the room together and he swiftly closed the door with his leg. I could see the passion in his eyes. I felt his arms around my waist and then his body pulling me closer. His lines got blurry as I moved towards him…

A moment later, all was dark. I couldn’t see anything anymore. I could only sense his sweet scent and feel his lips on mine. Their warmth was soothing, their taste – captivating; I couldn’t let go and neither could he. But we did. My knees had gone completely weak and I saw my hands shake as I reached out to touch his face. He too, noticed.

He led me to the bed and gently laid me down on it. My heart was racing but I couldn’t move, I could only look at him and smile. He smiled back and lied on top of me; his lips centimeters away from mine, moving slowly as they uttered three simple words: “I love you.”

I love you too.

His fingers slid from my forehead, to my cheek and further down to the rest of my body. But they never tried to unbutton my shirt or unzip my jeans, and I know they wouldn’t until I have managed to put some things out of the way. He has seen through me and knows that I’m struggling to make past past, and this is why he never pushed. I’ll be myself very soon again; I only hope he’ll be next to me, waiting...”

Silence.

“Don’t stop, go on,” he said impatiently.

“That’s it. That’s all. I only have one page.”

“But that was a whole year ago. You must have written at least something since then.”

“No. I’ve never felt the need to write again since. I’ve had you."

Silence. I knew he wouldn’t…

“I understand,” he said to my surprise. “And I love the concept. Thank you for letting me write this story together with you."

“I...you don't have to...” He interrupted me and pressed his finger to my lips.

“I love you.”

Still caught in the web of emotions that past November had brought me, I recalled the four words I had so many times ran my fingers over…

“I love you too.”