Whenever Drew writes me a note, he ends it with:
All my love,
And I cannot get enough of that. I can't even explain why. I just look down at the scrawled-on piece of paper, with a closed-lip smile, squinted eyes, and think, youuu charming devil, you.
Because he just is, in the most subtle, no-agenda kind of way. The very first time we "hung out" alone, he put his arm around me. He just did it. And I call it a hang out because it wasn't a date. It just wasn't. Can't possibly qualify. We went and got sushi. I paid. And I'm pretty sure every single person he has ever come in contact with decided to call him while we were sitting there. I was annoyed with all of them.
We headed up to one of my three favorite parks. The one that overlooks the valley, that everyone now knows about, so it's always crowded. We laid in the grass and listened to music and never once touched each other. At all.
As we walked back to the car, he just grabbed me by the waist and pulled me toward him. As if this were a normal, expected kind of thing, that had happened on a regular basis for a considerable amount of time. And I'm reeling on the inside, trying to act cool about it on the outside. Like, yeah, you know, Drew's arm is around my waist. No big. NBD. (It was. It was a BD. A B-freaking-D.)
I asked him about that a few weeks ago. Because, from my experience, it takes a lot of nerve, to just reach out and touch another person without their explicit approval to do so. Given, the greater the risk, the greater the potential return. But still. Scary. There were times that I had to have a countdown in my head before leaning in to kiss someone. Like, three....two....one....smootch.
I guess I just wanted to know where in the world someone gets that kind of nerve.
He said to me, "Meg, if I wanted to date someone, I just did."
So, there you go, I guess.