“Do you think you could love me?” I asked.
“I already love you.”
“No, but do you think you could really love me?” I said, looking up at him. He did not answer for a while, so I took a sip of my drink.
“Do you think you could love me?” he said, as if this could be considered a reply. I was so very tired of the game and needed help to stay on my feet that night.
“I’m obsessed with loving you.” I wasn’t very good at playing.
“Yes, I know, but do you really love me?” He teased lightly. My involuntary smile contrasted my inner need to be constantly near him. I stared straight ahead into the night. I did not want to look up and see that his teasing smile did not reach his eyes, so I rested my head on his shoulder instead. I’m not sure what he assumed this meant my answer was, but I would have liked for him to choose one and tell me.