I've only told one of them once aloud that I loved them, and it was an accident while drunk at a bar a month in. Spilling out no thoughts, just a natural goodbye to those that I surround myself in the hazy glow and loud music. That night when I confessed my feelings to the puppy car boys, after all was said and done and I was feeling that bitter sting of rejection; I took a chance. I held one of their hands and after some thought and courage, squeezed his hand three times.
The relief I felt as he squeezed back in four, how he said he just wants to keep doing what we were doing. That behind those nights with them, there really was love there... Well, I guess it was a consolation prize that took some sting off being told I'm just a friend.
I spent a lot of the last 4 months with a secret communication of hand squeezes with him. I think once before, both of them had done it. They were silent squeezes on freeways over gear shifts, a blink and you'll miss it moment, or worse misunderstand.
I spent time with the other in a hotel room that hugged a Forrest. A perk of the job and off season tourism. The pine filled our lungs as we layed on starchy blankets in each other's arms. I felt nervous about my secret I had with his partner. Not because it was taboo to love him, but because I was worried those feelings weren't between the three of us. That to one, I was unburdened with love; and the other, a match to watch burn out.
He smothered me with his body, like an animal marking it's scent. It drove me wild as I laid beneath his mass. Even if I were a match to him, I was determined to radiate every ray I had. When he laid back next to me, resting my head on his thick furred chest. I grabbed his hand, if only to feel that same smothered appeal. This time, he took the leap of courage and squeezed my hand thrice.
The water that trickled through my eyes was sweet with flecks of gold. I matched his tempo and squeezed back four.
