8. Leta

8

LETA

O n our second date, Jake and I go on the Underground Tour, a walking tour of Seattle's buried ruins and subterranean storefronts, followed by dinner at a fancy Italian place I've always wanted to go to. On our third date, we catch a double feature at an indie movie theater and then take a detour on the way home and have a fun little shopping trip at a sex toy shop. On our fourth date, he takes me to a baseball game, where I cheer my lungs out and almost catch a fly ball. On our fifth date, we drive out of the city to check out a farm I read about, where there's goats and horses and rabbits and a gorgeous botanical garden.

With every date we go on, I fall harder and harder for Jake.

I don't expect my feelings for him to develop so quickly, or so intensely. It's not like I'm purposely looking for reasons to become increasingly smitten with him. It just happens . Every conversation we have deepens our connection, and the better I get to know the real him, the harder I fall.

Also, it doesn't hurt that he's constantly holding doors open for me, resting his hand on the small of my back, telling me I look pretty, and stealing kisses at every opportune moment.

One night, he takes me on a surprise date, which ends up being a drive out of the city to go on a winery tour and then stay the night at a luxury inn. I still have a pleasant buzz from the winery tour when we check into our room, and when I tease my fingers over Jake's belt, he doesn't waste any time getting me naked and in bed.

He's deep inside me when the words spill from my lips.

"I love you," I gasp.

Immediately, I'm mortified. I can't believe such a declaration just came out of my mouth. I haven't even thought those three little words yet. How could I just blurt them out like that?

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. But Jake doesn't react. He just keeps driving into me, breathing hard, lost in our shared pleasure. Either he didn't hear me or he's pretending like he didn't hear.

Afterward, he continues to act like everything's normal. He pulls me close to him as we lay in bed together. He traces his fingers over my back, like he always does. It seems like my misstep might truly not be anything to worry about.

But in the days that follow, he's distant. I don't hear anything from him for a few days. And when I reach out, he doesn't sound like himself.

I hang up from that phone call with a pit of dread in my stomach.

The next few days aren't any better. If anything, he seems to be pulling more and more away. Every time I reach out, he makes up an excuse about being busy at work, giving me a vague promise that we'll see each other soon.

By then, there's no doubt in my mind that he heard me say I love you . There's also no doubt in my mind that it was the last thing he wanted to hear.

Devastated, I try to think of a way to fix it, but I eventually have to accept that this isn't the kind of thing you can fix.

I messed up.

I scared him away.

I ruined it all.

And that's how I learn how awful it feels to be in love with someone who doesn't love you back.