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“Honestly, Doliver?” I lower my half-eaten burger and meet his eyes before I lose track of my thoughts. “I’d kill for someone who loves me as much as it seems you love her. I’m out here with a stranger that I admire and respect, a stranger who has helped me through a lot of dark moments. But you’re out here with a random nobody, because you want to be good enough for the person you love. That’s beautiful. If anyone could choose me to such an extent that they were this scared of losing me, I’d adore them forever.” Taking another bite, I subdue the ache in my chest. “Strong enough. Reliable enough. Good enough. If someone wants me during the moments when I find it hard to want myself, at least to me, they’re all that and more.”
Doliver watches me, an odd light in his eyes, like I’ve unfurled so many things in front of him that bring him incomprehensible amounts of hope. Hope that, before now, he never once entertained.
It is utterly soul-crushing to watch those flickering lights dim.
His jaw hardens as he balls up his wrapper and reaches into the bag for a fry. “Humans lie.” He tosses the fry in his mouth. “Sometimes even when they don’t mean to. What you’re saying isn’t logical. It’s emotionally charged, and while I respect and validate your emotions, it’s as flimsy as saying all you need is love.”
I frown. “That’s not flimsy.”
“Is so.”
“It is not. When you have love, really have love, that is all you need.”
He laughs.
“Doliver. I mean it. Real love rises to any occasion and obstacle. It assesses shortcomings and works to correct them for the sake of the ones you care about. Real love is commitment unto death and everything in between.”
“More often than not, the concept of human love is built on good intentions, and good intentions don’t mean much.”
“Good intentions are the start. Perseverance and determination with them lead to results.”
He passes me an onion ring. “What if you love someone but don’t believe you’re capable of being any better, no matter how determined you are to persevere?”
“That presses upon the question of whether or not you can really love someone without first loving yourself.”
“Of course you can. Just not happily.”
I crunch into the onion ring after locating a packet of ketchup and drowning it in the stuff. “What do you mean?”
“If you love someone and don’t love yourself, you don’t force the person you love to be with you, because you know you’re not good enough for them.”
I crunch the rest of my onion ring and lick crumbs off my finger as I glare dully into beautiful brown eyes. If he’s not enough, who can be? “You are making me sad.”
He barks a short laugh and offers me another onion ring. “Sorry. But, see? If I can’t make you happy, how am I going to make the girl I love happy?”
“How do you know you’re not good enough for her if you don’t ask for her opinion?” Holding out my free hand, I wiggle my fingers until he gives me another packet of ketchup. “You’re being rather presumptuous.”
“How will she know whether or not I’m worth it unless she spends decades learning every detail about me, judging my every move and mistake, determining with plentiful information all my rights and wrongs?”
“Heck, man. What’s so good about this girl if you think she’s going to nitpick everything about you and decide whether or not you’re worthy like that?” My nose scrunches as I stuff the onion ring in my face, mumbling against my hand to avoid spitting crumbs, “She sounds awful.”
Without a touch of ire over the fact I’m insulting this goddess of a woman he seems irrationally attracted to, Doliver provides me with a grilled cheese. “She’s precious. Innocent. I doubt she’d want to judge me so harshly, but given the situation, she should. It’s complicated.”
“Sounds it.” I unwrap the grilled cheese, delighted at the sight of cheap bread and unnaturally yellow American slices. Something about the buttery white bread is so childhood. With Alana. And Mom and Dad. Getting sandwiches after playing mini-golf. “We should go mini-golfing,” I comment as I tear a piece of the crust off. “Next time we get together. And, yes, I am kind of inviting myself out with you again, because I’m emotionally invested in your wellbeing now.” I direct the piece of bread at him. “You are absolutely endearing, and I need to know that you value yourself before I will ever be able to sleep well again.”
“We’re certain your reaction isn’t grounded entirely in the fact I’m feeding you?”
He hands me a cheese-dipped fry, and I swipe it from his fingers like a feral child after devouring the piece of crust. “You make a valid point. However, I’m invalidating it on the terms of I said so. Love yourself, dang it. You’re a sweetheart.”
Dimples. “I put on a great show, don’t I?”
“I feel like I need to look up affirmations for you, then give you homework that involves repeating them in the mirror until—”
“—I’m so proud it’s insufferable?”
“Pride is different from confidence. With this girl, you need to channel some of whatever gives you the strength to post your work online for millions of people to see.”
He laughs, yet again.
