Page 163 of Girls Will Be Girls
I will selfishly admit — only to myself — that a spark of hope lit inside of me when he told me about quitting.
I think it makes sense for him. He’s clearly not happy in that job, and I want him to find what makes him happy. But do I hope that he can find that happy in New York?Abso-fucking-loutely.
With equal amounts of alcohol and adrenaline coursing through us after we left the bar, neither of us was tired. We grabbed a pizza from my favorite late-night spot on the way home and ended up sitting out on the fire escape balcony we outfitted with cushions and blankets, talking, eating, and taking in the summer night in the city.
We didn’t tread over any serious topics, both of us clearly completely contented in our happy bubble of what this night turned into.
When my eyes started to droop shut, my words slow, Lou carried me to bed despite my half-assed protests. We kissed lazily, cuddled, spooned, enjoyed being in each other’s arms until we both fell asleep.
Lou isactuallyasleep right now. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen it, which is a very weird thought.
I know it’s most likely the fact that we both basically passed out last night, but I like to think he’s sleeping because he’s happy. Because all the stress he’s been feeling is finally lifting. Maybe a little.
I lie here in his arms, I don’t know how long for, thinking about how different everything is since I met him.
So much has changed. I feel likeI’vechanged. Like I’m growing braver, stronger, more myself by the minute.
Every moment since I quit that job I hated, I’ve been trying to find myself, figure out who I am.
I feel like I’ve been slowly discovering me, but I also think it’s not all about finding what’s lost, it’s about creating what’s never been there. Creating what I want for myself. Creating who I know I am.
I know I’m shy sometimes. I don’t always feel confident in myself. I’m still discovering and finding things out.
But I also know that I’m fearless. I’m smart. I’m passionate. I’m beautiful. I’m a mixture of things.
I can be pink and sparkly, I can be dark and grungy. I can like country music and cowboy boots, while simultaneously being a New York City girl through and through. I can write about yoga, pottery classes, or trending dance routines and still be a serious journalist. I can choose to be unserious and still be amazing at my job. Still be doing something real, something that matters to me.
I don’t have to be one thing. I’m not one-dimensional.
I contain multitudes, honey.
Every aspect of the girlhood I’ve been trying to reclaim is me. I am all of it.
I’m finally becoming brave enough to own it.
And if I’m brave enough for that, then I should be brave enough to ask the boy who is so clearly in love with me if he would consider moving here. The worst he can say is no, but I’m strong enough to deal with that.
Having him here would please me, and pleasing myself is the most important thing I can do.
Like he can hear me taking his advice, like he knows in my mind I’m telling him he was right, Lou stirs behind me, pulling me even closer to him, enveloping me. His lips find my shoulder as he places soft kisses down my skin. The rough scratch of his stubble contrasts with his smooth lips, making every part of my body feel sensitive.
“Good morning.” He kisses my neck.
“Morning.” I drag his arm tighter around me.
“Mm.” His hand slides down to my hip. “I wanna wake up like this every morning.” He pulls my ass into the other part of him that’s very clearly awake and standing at attention.
I let out a little involuntary whimper, feeling his smile against my skin at my reaction.
As his hand starts to travel up my shirt, leaving a heated trail up to my breasts, I grab his fingers and stop him before he reaches his destination. I look at him over my shoulder.
“Can I talk to you about something first?” I ask shyly.
“Of course, sweetheart.” He says with a sleepy smile, turning me around so we’re facing each other. “What is it?” He pushes a hair off my face to the side.
“Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do now?” I ask.
“You mean after I fuck you?” He smirks, and I stick him with a glare to hide my own smile. “I guess I should probably go hand in my resignation.” He says.
