It’s over seven months since the night you asked me out, dropping me off at my house after an evening of watching movies cuddled up on the couch. I knew you were going to ask me, I just didn’t know when, and you kind of surprised me. You were a little shy about it, as if I could actually say no to you, the one I met and fell for my freshman year, the one I couldn’t have, but always wanted. I couldn’t keep my hands off you, running them through your hair, feeling your heartbeat through your chest.
It’s less than a month from my eighteenth birthday, less than a month before what we really want to do becomes legal, and your mother approves of us fully. I’m a little scared, knowing that you want me to tell my father of our decision, knowing he’ll ask if it’s the first time we’d be together in that way. I’m scared that my family will see it as an issue, and not let me see you. I’m scared, that with our addictive personalities, we’ll get addicted to it, so when I go to join the navy, you’ll find someone else to be with. Mostly, I’m scared because I don’t want to have any flashbacks to the times I was raped while I’m with you.
You make my knees weak, and I love being close to you. I love being held in your arms, I love the feel of your lips against mine. You already got rid of my nightmares, and I turn to you first when I’m scared. I know it seems cliche, but you are the light of my life, and I don’t want anything to ruin our relationship. So do you mind if we take it slow? I’m definitely not ready for 50 Shades of Grey.