subject line: Wildest Dreams

 

agloe, new york.

I know him.

I know that his second favorite color is black and that sometimes he wants nesquik strawberry milk at 12:30 in the morning.

I know the name of the song he loves to listen to when he’s driving and how much he misses his old class advisor.

I know everything he wants to do to the corvette he wants to buy after he graduates college and that Law and Order: SVU is his favorite late night guilty pleasure.

I know the names of all the boys who want to key his car and I’ve memorized the way his eyes look when he looks up from being focused on his phone because I said “Hi, handsome.”

I love the way he drinks vente frapaccinos and the way he leans all the way back in the driver’s seat and the way his laugh sounds— his real laugh, the one he has when he forgets he’s trying to hide himself; I love the way he knows all of the names of the employees at the chick-fil-a by that old university we met at and the way he talks to me about God in the middle of a Publix parking lot.

I need the comfortability that comes with being able to tell him at 2:00 in the morning that he is basic, and settling; I need the way he gets frustrated and tells me how important it is share about myself.

And he knows me.

He knows all about the reasons I can’t sleep at night and all the right things to say to make me comfortable.

He cheers me on and never doubts my brilliance even when I shrink into wondering how I got to the places I’m in.

He calls me “Princess,” and I still haven’t figured out if it’s sarcastic or not.

He loves the way I talk with my hands and the way I get in his car without even thinking twice before he sets off at 140 mph.

He doesn’t make himself small next to me and all my dreams; there is no awe or intimidation. He just lets me be. And I tell him that he knows what he’s supposed to do exactly when he needs to hear it.

And still, he spends most nights cruising around town, waiting to feel something more than the fear of missing out on a life he never lived, while I fall asleep at home in his hoodie, waiting for the same reason.