You Can't Tell Him

Ember

Hearing them from him was exactly what I’d been wishing for, a sign he wouldn’t run and write me off if I said them first. Hearing those words for the first time in earnest from any man who wasn’t related to me surely should have elicited a more appropriate response.

There was only one conclusion to be drawn for all this. Something was wrong with me. Any other girl would have turned around, run to him, thrown her arms around the gorgeous, incredible man who said he loved her for the first time, and told him she loved him too.

Only, I hadn’t done that. I had, in fact, reacted in the exact same way I was afraid he might have had I said it first. I turned and ran.

I blamed my reaction on my overactive imagination. I was halfway to the street when I realized I hadn’t actually imagined what he said. By then, it was too late.

Forgetting I meant to stop by my own office first, I marched straight to Mr. Marx’s office. I was so out of it, I didn't even realize I was still ten minutes ear