It's not a scandal, for Hell's sake. It's a... an extremely mild infatuation. He's just very pretty. Your type, actually. He has very sparkly eyes. And anyhow I'm sure he's into boys. Someone that blatantly sexy could not be trying to attract women. It's practically a statistical fact.
And besides, there's Emilio, who is much more ruggedly handsome, and I like him. Very much. It's nearly love, it probably could be love. If I just knew him a little better, it would be love. No, that's not quite right—not knew, but understood. I've never been a really jealous sort, Lara, you know me; why would it be worth having if it only wants to stray anyhow? But he is—Emilio is the worrying kind, the jealous sort.
Does a person have to change their basic nature in order to be happy with someone else? I'm shamelessly friendly (you'd call it flirtatious and I'd tell you you're wrong), and I'm headstrong to a fault; I don't let anyone tell me what to do. I'm a spoiled brat.
Jack never tried to own me—everything was at my will. He never took liberties or made assumptions; each moment from me was a gift, and likewise. It was a pleasant partnership in that fashion, no matter how impulsive and stupid we were in other aspects; he said that I must come and go as I chose, but that he would love nothing more than for me to stay. I had my choice, always. It was strange and free, and in turn made me worry sometimes about where his thoughts were; did he truly care as much as he said he did? Wouldn't he have wanted to hold me close if he loved me, instead of giving me permission to fly away? Or was that a sign that he actually did love me?
I know exactly where Emilio's thoughts are at any given time. He loves me, I think. And I do know that I have a choice with Emilio. He wouldn't want me to stay if I wanted to leave. He has his pride and a goodly amount of it, at times. And yet he makes the rebellious streak in me come out. He always has made me stubborn—from the first day he tried to cart me around like a princess, I was determined to prove to him that I could stand on my own two feet. And he is disconcerted and still hurt by me. I don't blame him for mistrusting whatever actions I have been taking; I'm not even certain of them myself. How can I be sure I'm not doing this just because I'm lonely?
I give myself more credit than that. Nobody could feel the way I feel about Emilio and be with him just because they're lonely. It's bigger than like and not quite love and I feel like a stupid girly-girl even writing this, but you know me. I AM a stupid girly-girl.
Do me a favor.
Print this out. Delete it from your inbox. Go outside to the back corner of the pasture and burn it. Seriously. What a load of crap.