"It WAS romantic," I say, but he's right. It wasn't romantic.
"It was like reading a resume, or a bio. It was just a listing of facts."
"Fine." I roll my eyes. "I'll do better next time."
"I expected more from you, especially since you call yourself a romantic." He smiles.
"Yeah, got it." I smile back. "I'll be sure to be more romantic."
"And maybe draw some hearts. Spray the paper with your perfume."
I laugh. "Okay, now you're just making fun of me."
"Hey, you need to go all out. No holding back. I sprayed mine with cologne."
"You did?"
"I'm obviously better at this than you."
I huff. "I can't believe you just said that."
"If you'd like me to stop talking, just kiss me. Works every time."
"Yeah, you're funny." He really is. I'd forgotten how funny he is.
"So no kiss?"
"We're not in a public place."
"We could go out in the hall."
As much as I'd love to kiss him again, I know where it'll lead and I really do want to slow things down.
"No kissing," I say.
"Then I guess I'll keep talking. Since I didn't include any facts in my letter, I'll just tell you them. Like you, I'm also a marketing major, but I'm graduating in May. Not sure what I'm going to do for a job yet but I'd like to leave Chicago. I've been here my whole life and would like to try something different. You already know I'm in a band so I'll skip that part."
"Wait. What about your song?"
"What song?"
"One Night."
"That's our song, not mine. What about it?"
Our song. My heart skipped a little when he said it. He already considers us a couple.
"When did you write it?" I ask.
"The day after you left. The lyrics just came to me and I had to write them down. I added the music later."
"I love that song." I look down. "Even though it makes me sad."
"It shouldn't make you sad. I got what I wanted. I found you."
"But not until months later. I'm really sorry about that, Dylan. What I put you through. It was wrong of me."
"Then why'd you do it?" His hand goes under my chin, lifting my face up. "Tell me why you did it."