His arms wrapped around me, providing a warm embrace, protecting me, shielding me. I could feel his breath, warm on my neck.

I spun around to face him. I had no idea what to say to him, how to tell him how I felt. I stared down at the heart he had drawn on my sneaker. I started like this, "Sometimes, I can feel my heart leap in my chest when I see you, feel my whole body tremble, feel my throat tighten. My newly-found dependence on you scares me. I love you in a way that I've never loved anyone before."

It took a moment for him to process this. Finally, he said, "Before I met you, I'd felt like I would never find anyone who understood me and accepted me." He paused. "Then I found you." He smiled.

"You know," I said, "I've never told anyone other than family that I loved them."

"You can change that," he said, grinning.

"I love you," I said. I paused, waiting, hoping, praying, he would say that he loved me too. A few moments passed by. Maybe he hadn't heard me, so I repeated, "I love you."

A few more moments passed by. I thought he might not say it, thought I might have to run away.

He smiled, "I love you too."