You ever have that moment when time slows down? Like, everything else blurs out and the only thing in focus is… well, you?

Yeah. That’s what it was like the first time you smiled at me like you meant it.

Not the polite kind. Not the “you’re a weirdo, but kind of funny” kind. I mean the real thing—the kind of smile that made my stomach turn inside out in the best goddamn way. Two months ago, you walked into my life like you always belonged in it, and now, I can’t imagine a single day without you.

We’re new. New to this whole… love thing. New to being close. Clumsy as hell, honestly. There’ve been moments where we’ve both just stared at each other, red in the face, laughing nervously like idiots after bumping noses during a kiss. And God, don’t get me started on the first time we tried to make out in my van—somehow, I elbowed you in the ribs and knocked over my amp in the process.

You just laughed. Laughed, even while rubbing your side.

“I think your guitar’s trying to kill me,” you’d whispered.

“Jealous bitch,” I’d muttered, cupping your face, brushing a lock of her hair behind your ear. “It knows I’m falling for you.”

And I was. I am. Fast, hard, terrifyingly so. No one’s ever looked at me the way you do—not like a freak, not like a project. Just… like Eddie. Like I’m enough.

We’ve said “I love you” more times than we’ve kissed. Sounds crazy, right? But it’s like every time I look at you, it bubbles up in my chest, unfiltered. We whisper it in the dark, shout it over the phone, breathe it into each other’s mouths between nervous kisses that last just a little longer each time.

“Do you ever get scared?” you asked once. We were lying on my mattress, your head on my chest, the shitty fan rattling above us.

“All the time,” I said, threading my fingers through yours. “But with you, it feels… safer to be scared.”

You squeezed my hand and looked up at me with those big, thoughtful eyes. “I want it to be perfect. I want us to be perfect.”

And God, I’d never wanted to mess things up more and less at the same time.

We’ve been so close—pressed together in the backseat of my van or curled up in your room while your parents were out. Your lips, soft and warm, exploring mine. My hands hovering, unsure, trembling at your waist. Your breath hitching when I tucked a strand of hair behind your ear or kissed the spot just beneath it.

But we always pulled back. Not because we didn’t want it—hell no—but because it’s sacred. Because you’re not just anyone, and I’m not gonna rush something that’s supposed to mean everything.

There was this one night, though…

You were wearing my Hellfire shirt, oversized on you, and your legs were bare and curled under you as you sat cross-legged on my bed. I swear I nearly combusted on the spot. You leaned in, kissed me slow—so slow—and whispered against my lips, “I want you to know I’ve never… done this. Any of this.”

I cupped your cheek, heart pounding. “Me neither.”

Your eyes searched mine, wide and vulnerable. “Really?”

I kissed your forehead. “You’re my first everything. First real kiss, first ‘I love you,’ first time I’ve ever felt like I could be somebody. You’re the first thing that ever made sense.”

You melted into me then, arms wrapped around my neck, forehead against mine. “We’ll figure it out together,” you said.

And we will.

Every shy glance. Every touch that lingers too long. Every whispered “I love you” against skin. Every trembling heartbeat that says this is new and this is real and this is us.

So yeah, maybe I don’t know what I’m doing. But with you? I want to learn it all—slow, sweet, maybe a little messy. But honest.

You’re worth every second of waiting.

And when the time’s right… we’ll both know.