(i shall use like because love is a scary
word, even if it is true)
I liked you a lot. I liked your ginger, straw-like hair
(and how it bleached in the summertime) and your
non-existent eyelashes. I liked how your wisdom teeth made the
rest of your mouth crooked, and how your front teeth had to
cram together (you talked about getting braces or - if you
could afford it - invisalign. I didn't really want you to,
but the reasons why would be hard to explain, so I never said
anything). But most of all, I liked your freckles. I liked
them a lot. I liked how, at night, I got to count the ones
on your back, and if I squinted really hard I could make out
Ursa Major and, maybe, Scorpius.
I think I liked you more than you liked yourself.
Part 1 of
lov liking ginger boys who hate
themselves