Page 12 of The Reality of Wanting Him (Love Without Labels #1)

Maybe it would be fun to have a partner who knows how to be serious when they need to be but can also break down my walls and pull me out of my own head sometimes.

Someone whose immediate reaction to things is a little more optimistic than mine, who knows how to laugh through the frustrating moments instead of letting them weigh them down.

I’ve spent so much of my life planning, worrying, making sure everything runs smoothly.

What would it be like to have someone who pushes me to let go a little?

It’s so hard to imagine a future with someone when I don’t know their gender, their voice, or even any details of what they look like.

I’ve been attracted to a range of men and women before, so I truly don’t have some secret hope that I’m talking to a petite blonde woman or some tan super buff bodybuilder man.

Every time I try to imagine B on the other end of this call, it feels impossible.

I know they talked a lot about football initially, but it was all about watching it, enjoying the atmosphere of the game and the camaraderie of the fandom.

I'm not going to assume a fan looks like one of the players. I know anyone can enjoy sports. The point of the show is to build an emotional connection, and I’d definitely say it’s working.

“You ever feel like you’re too much?” B asks suddenly, drawing my attention back to them and not what they might look like.

I wasn’t expecting that at all after what they just said about staying positive. “What do you mean?”

“Like, too much for other people. Too loud, too talkative, too something .”

B has always seemed so confident, but once again, layers. I don’t want to admit that’s exactly the way I felt about them after our first date, so I finally go with the truth. “I think everyone feels that way sometimes. Like they’re either too much or not enough.”

B lets out a long exhale. “Yeah. I don’t know. I was just thinking about what you said earlier. How your dad always made sure you knew you were loved, how he let you feel everything. I think that’s really rare.”

Here’s the conversation we were likely meant to have earlier when they brushed it off . I could tell there was something more, but they just didn’t know how to say it. “You didn’t have that?”

“I mean, my parents are fine, don’t get me wrong,” B says quickly.

“I’ve had a great life, no complaints. I just…

” He pauses for a few seconds. “They weren’t the feelings type.

My mom’s the kind of person who shows love by making sure you have the newest, shiniest things and that you’re dressed well for family photos.

My dad… well, I guess he’s very focused on success.

Being the best at something, earning some kind of award or achievement.

He isn’t cold, but it’s like the only time he ever really knew how to show affection was when I was accomplishing something.

I think that’s why I crave physical touch so much in relationships.

I can’t remember ever having that from anyone but our dog growing up.

But like I said, it’s not like I had a bad childhood or anything. ”

B’s trying to say it doesn’t bother them.

It’s obvious that they don't want to speak poorly of their family when there are so many cameras recording our every breath and movement, but I know what they’re getting at.

They just want to be loved for who they are as a person, without some type of condition tied to it.

I swallow as I pull my blanket up higher. “I think people show love in the ways they know how.”

“Yeah,” B agrees. “I just… sometimes I wish I felt more connected to the people around me, you know?”

I do know. Probably more than they realize.

I hear some odd noise come through on the other end of the line, and I’m trying to make out what just happened when B says, “I can’t stop yawning.”

I glance at the clock and realize it’s nearly midnight, and I have no idea how that’s possible when it feels like we just picked up the phone to cook dinner.

“You should go to sleep,” I say, even though I don’t really want to end the call.

“Probably. But I like talking to you.”

That does something to me. It shouldn’t—I mean, it’s not like no one’s ever said that to me before—but the way B says it makes me really want to just ditch this show and meet them face-to-face tomorrow.

“Yeah,” I admit. “Me too.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, but it’s not awkward. It’s the kind of silence that means neither of us want to be the one to hang up.

“I’m gonna regret staying up this late,” B finally mutters.

“You definitely will,” I say, smirking. “And I’m not responsible for any of it.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Wow, no accountability. Noted, L. That’ll bode great for us in the future.”

We’ve only known each other for a short time, and yet… the id ea of an us doesn’t sound so impossible. I shake my head, still smiling into my pillow. “Goodnight, B.”

“Night, L.”

The call ends and I stare at my phone for a moment before setting it down on the nightstand, reflecting on that conversation.

Yeah. Maybe it would be fun to have a partner who’s less serious than I am. I haven’t felt this light in a while, even if we did talk about heavier topics.