I remember imagining what life would be like if we were together. I didn’t picture walks on the beach, watching the sun rise, or laughing over a candlelit dinner, though. I’m not into that kind of thing, and neither are you.

Instead, I thought we would sit in silence. You would be on your laptop, typing up some report. You would’ve told me earlier what it was for, but I would have forgotten by then. I’d sit on the couch and read a book. Maybe I’d listen to music or watch T.V.. Either way, it wouldn’t matter. Being together would be enough, as cliché as that sounds.

I didn’t think my love would be enough for you. How could I? You were cold to me, even I will admit that. Others said you were heartless, but I didn’t believe them. I saw you with your little brother; saw the love in your eyes when you looked at him. No, you weren’t heartless. I didn’t think you could feel romantic love, but you were always good at proving me wrong.

One time. I brought my journal to school one time. Of course I had to forget it; and of course, it had to be the one with my personal thoughts about you in it. You just had to find it, didn’t you?

I was leaning against my locker when you walked up to me, journal in hand. “Here,” you said smoothly, handing it to me.

“Thanks,” I replied. I shoved it into my locker hastily. I wanted out of there as fast as possible. Did you read it? I hoped not. Please tell me you didn’t read it…

“I read it.” Well, crap.

I turned around and faced you. “And?” I asked defensively. “I don’t think you had any right to -”

“And I love you too, fool,” you said, cutting my sentence off. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Don’t call me a fool,” I replied, ignoring the question.

“Should I kiss you and make it all better?” you asked, smirking.

“Yes.”

Our relationship is exactly how I imagined it would be. We live a cliché; love is enough.