"I . . . I think . . . I love you . . ."
Shit. Fuck. Dammit. Son of a fucking bitch. Did I really just say that? What the fuck is wrong with me? We've been dating for one week. We'd known each other for two weeks. I mean, yeah, we spend every waking second talking or seeing each other, but still . . . it's only been two weeks . . . and I have to leave in three months. Ugh fuck, I haven't told her yet. Damnit. Maybe I should do it now . . . Should I? Yeah, well I have to tell her. How do I tell her something like- "I love you too, Louis." Tarin said, as she leaned forward, placing her plump lips upon mine.
Her kiss was sweet and sensitive, knowing how hard it must've been for me to say the L word first. I felt embarrassed and ashamed, being the one to say it first, but my nerves were instantaneously calmed once her lips touched mine.
Her lips were soft, and her tongue instantly found its way into my mouth, knowing exactly where to go to elicit a moan from my throat.
When she pulled away she looked into my eyes, and my hand went to cup her cheek, "I . . . I need to tell you something Tarin . . ." And the smile she had been wearing then wiped from her face. Her face contorted into concern and confusion. It was finally time to tell her.
"You know you call tell me anything Louis. I'm always here to listen," she said, as her hand softly massaged the skin on my collarbone.
"I uh. . . I won't be staying here." I said, not being able to hold eye contact with her.
"Wh - what do you mean?" she asked, confused.
I took a deep breath in, "I won't be here . . . in America forever." I didn't have the strength to look her in the eyes, "I have to go back to London."
"When?" she asked.
"In three months," I stated sadness overwhelming me, "two months after grad, I'll be on the next flight out to London. I'm really sorry I never told you earlier. It's just-" I felt like crying, "I just didn't want our relationship to change. I knew if I would've told you on our first date it would've changed a dynamic in our relationship, love. I'm really sorry."
She was rubbing small circles on the back of my hand, staring into my eyes and listening closely, "And when I realized that I really should tell you, I just- I didn't know how to tell you . . ." I trailed off.
"I'm really sorry," I whispered, barely audible.
"Lou," she grabbed my face in her hands, making me stare into her beautiful eyes, "it's okay. This doesn't change anything okay? We still have three months of each other's company. And when you move back? Well, then there's always the internet and the telephone. We can Skype. I can even come back with you . . ." her sweet voice instantly calmed my rattled nerves.
"No, you can't come back with me love. There aren't half as many opportunities in London."
"Lou, it really doesn't matter. We can talk about this in three months, okay? For now we can just enjoy the time we have together. Enjoy each other's company. I still love you," she said as she caressed my cheek.
"I don't deserve you. You're beautiful inside and out," I said as I gently kissed her lips once again.
And then that question popped into my brain again . . .
Will our love have an expiration date?