Dylan

It's been over a week. The photo shoot was the Saturday before last and it is now Monday.  Since that day, Bryce and I have been together almost constantly. Fans are going crazy with all the sightings of us eating at restaurants, running errands, and both of us posting each other on social media. It has been heaven, but there is one thing nagging me in the back of my mind. I haven’t told him how I feel or that I broke up with Amy.

Don’t judge me please. We’ve been hanging out as bros. Really. Sure, we end up in each other’s beds more often than not, but we don’t fall asleep in each other’s arms. Though we clearly wouldn’t mind it with the way we wake up tangled together. Our bodies have minds of their own, I swear.

Other than that, we have spent the last few days playing laser tag, hiking, and boxing…which I totally dropped as a hobby after I stopped hanging out with him and now I suck. But that is neither here nor there. I haven’t laughed like this in ages. I’m scared that will change once I tell him I want more.

Amy keeps telling me I just need to bite the bullet and tell him, but she isn’t being pushy about it. Speaking of Amy, our would-be anniversary came around four days after our breakup, and we decided to make it a celebration of our friendship. We wore matching PJs and socks and indulged in a marathon of 80’s movies. There were movies about everything from rampaging cyborgs to alien invasions to angsty teens trying to cope with high school and impending adulthood. Amy and I are both into skin care, so we also did homemade face masks, but we ate enough junk food that night to make us break out anyway.

The majority of the night was livestreamed for our fans. We signed off as we pretended to go to bed. What they didn’t see is that I went home to my own place to sleep alone in my snuggly blankets.

Bryce also did not get to see this. What he did see is the two dozen roses that Amy sent that morning because I was cooking breakfast for him when they arrived. I wouldn’t let him read the card, pretending that it was something personal. What it really said: “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?”

When he and I parted ways that day, I could feel him silently begging me not to leave. I wanted to squish his pouting face, but I had to pretend I didn’t know he was feeling clingy. If I responded it would be harder to make it seem like I didn’t notice his feelings. His belief that I am oblivious to his affections is the only thing keeping him from realizing that I have consciously been returning them with my own lately.

 Ugh. Why am I such a coward?

I thought this to myself as I slipped into the driver seat on my way to see Amy. Bryce had opened the door for me and was lingering with the door still open. I looked up at him and he stared at me with his brown hair falling into his amber eyes. The sun made his eyes appear to glow.

Oh, right. That’s why. His beauty is intimidating lately.

Today I am sitting in my living room, thinking about how I know that there is no real reason to be afraid of his reaction. I’ve all but confirmed that he feels the same. He’s actually said it to me, for heaven’s sake. (Though, to be fair, he didn’t know I was conscious.) There is just this looming fear that nothing will ever be the same, good or bad. Once I say it, there is no going back.

The longer I wait, the more I worry, and I know that it is better to just get it over with. I want to lean towards happiness instead of fear. How do I do that?

Time to ask the internet.

I pull out my laptop and search “How to live without fear”.  I get a lot of advice about trusting myself and feeling more confident about my own worth. It’s nice, but not what I am looking for. Another article says to acknowledge the feeling and truly feel comfortable in fear. It sounds like something my therapist would tell me. I can hear her now.

“Once you face your fear, Dylan, your body realizes that whatever you’re afraid of isn’t life-threatening. Provided, of course, that the situation is not truly life-threatening. If it is, get out there fast.”

I smile. Deborah and I always have fun in our sessions. I look at my phone to check my calendar. It’s probably time I make another appointment.

After scheduling time with Deborah online, I turn back to consulting the internet. I search 'how to confess to my crush' and I feel like a teenager even though most of the advice could apply to anyone.  

Finally, I end up on a forum where people ask the internet for advice. An hour later I am captivated by the many people confessing to their best friends. Some of these are surprisingly well-written and, to be honest, quite tantalizing. I am so absorbed in one steamy story that I nearly jump out of my skin when Bryce speaks.

“Hey. What are you reading?”

He is about to look over my shoulder, but I close the laptop.  

“Um…research for my next role.”

I feel myself blushing and he raises an eyebrow at me. I just stare back.

Even if my voice and face didn’t give me away, Bryce knows I don’t do research on my roles like this. Yes, I know that sounds horrible, but I don’t have the patience. If I am out of my element, I will have someone do the research for me and give me the short version. I may even interview or spend time with a person similar to my character, but I don’t sit for hours in the same spot, pouring over information. In fact, I have spent more time researching what to do about my feelings for Bryce than I did when considering buying the house we are sitting in.

Bryce thankfully lets it go and tosses me my keys.

“Let’s go?”

“Where?”

“To buy your outfit for your birthday. And don’t pretend you know what you’re wearing already. You always wait until the last minute.”

Oh yeah! My birthday is tomorrow. What am I doing obsessing over confessing when I have a party to attend?

“Okay, but you have to let me dress you too.”

Bryce makes a face and then smiles when I slap his arm.

“As you wish.”

Amy and I watched The Princess Bride during our 80’s marathon so I did not miss the reference.  Gosh, this man is corny…and I love him for it.

“Shut up, Westley.”

I retort without thinking. His eyes widen.

“What?”

“Huh? Oh, um. It’s a Star Trek reference. You know Picard? You’re being annoying like Wesley Crusher.”

“Oh?”

Yeah…at this rate, I’m going to blurt it out accidently, aren’t I?