You have to tell me for sure

"You have started to make me nervous."

"Why," he said, his teeth slightly tugging at my earlobe.

"Here, this," I looked into his eyes, "this is what making me nervous."

"What? I didn't even do anything."

"No, you did. You're just not aware of it."

He gave me a stare so deep that I swear my heart stopped. And when it resumed beating, it beat at the speed of a cyclone.

"Okay," he said. "I was about to tell you something pretty

important. Maybe later, then."

"What? No." I sat up straight. "Tell me now."

He put his head lightly on my right shoulder and smiled.

"Okay, maybe I was going to tell you that I love you. But maybe you're not ready."

His lips brushed the soft of my cheeks and I could feel it break into flames.

I looked sideways at him and his eyes stared back into mine.

God, his eyes. His eyes are the most beautiful shade of warm honey, so deep that the entire vastness of the sky fell short in front of them.

"Maybe, I'm ready." I smiled. "Maybe, you'll have to actually tell me to know for sure."