I love you.
I'm in love with you.
Just the thought of seeing you is enough to make me smile.
Touching your skin, running my fingers across your wrist, comforts me.
How many mistakes am I making?
How am I messing this up?
These questions gnaw at me. Trouble me.

I tell people I don't care what others might think but secretly I'm terrified. As much as the fourteen years between our ages rarely seem to matter to us or to our friends, I don't know that your parents will feel the same way. What would your dad think if he knew how I feel about you?
And still... I want to hold your hand. I want to put my arms around you, have you hold me, lean my head against your chest and listen to your heartbeat.

I couldn't tell you when it happened. Not really. I can't point to some date on a calendar and say, "That was the day." Perhaps it was that night at Sally's as we all sat around the fire, drinking and laughing. That night when I ended up curled up against you on the couch, tangling my fingers in yours. Or maybe it has been the accumulation of times together. Days and nights. Laughing and talking. Talking dirty. Teasing. You trying to make me giggle and squeal in your quest to locate all my ticklish spots.

Your mind amazes me. Some days you are the oldest and wisest man I've ever met. Other days your naivety and wonder fill my heart with joy. You can be so silly and so serious. And right now, you're who I want to be with. I want to curl up next to you, rest my head against you, and feel you wrap your arm around me.

I love you.
It's that simple.