She spotted him in the pale moonlight, beneath the old Oak tree, and caught her breath just in time.
Just, she reminds herself. For once they were close enough to touch, it wouldn’t be so easy to keep her breath, or her words unspoken, to herself.
Words yet unspoken. She needed to guard those words – the final barrier between this boy and her heart.
Hi. That was easy, a word they’d exchanged many a time.
Only this time it meant so much more.
Don’t be fooled, she warns herself. This boy already knows more about you than he lets on. He has found his way to your heart, and he just needs the key.
This boy knows the trick.
The girl builds layer upon layer of prose around herself, letting stories of her day occupy the conversation.
Then, as she draws breath, ready to speak the unspoken, the boy’s eyes glimmer. Words intended for his ears are once again stolen by his mouth.
And those eyes. So close to her heart.
I love you.
He’d broken the silence, stolen her words, and spoken her truth.
And there was nothing she could do.
Or say, for that matter.