“So yes,” I said, “you are my girlfriend, and I am your boyfriend.” Her eyes lifted to mine, and I could feel how much weight those simple words had acquired through all my efforts to avoid them. “I want that, Maya, and I’m not saying it because you demanded a label.” I took a breath and finished the thought without a joke: “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Then she told me she needed to say something too. She hadn’t pushed because she doubted I liked her; she knew I did, and the good moments had never been the confusing part. What frightened her was the possibility that I would decide the romance had become too dangerous and retreat into friendship before she got any say in it. That conversation at Ben’s birthday had taught her how easily I could call such a decision protection.
