He was holding me.

Everything was perfect.

I was warm and happy and content.

Nothing could ruin this moment.

Nothing.

He kissed the top of my head. "I love you," he said.

And just like that, it was gone.

I couldn't move. My entire body was frozen, rigid. I hadn't moved, but he could tell.

"…Rose…?"

There were more words on his lips, but I couldn't stay to hear them. Unconsciously, I had sat up, pulled away from him. I felt sick, so vulnerable, with nothing to hide behind. No cloth to hide my body, no emotion to hide my heart, no wall to hide my soul. His hands were out towards me, and he knew that it was what he said that made me pull away, but in his eyes was confusion. He didn't understand why that would make me act like this.

Neither did I.

But I couldn't breathe. His words had knocked the air right out of me, and kept it out. My common sense was desperately trying to untangle the mess of emotion in my mind. Wasn't this what you wanted? It was asking. Well, wasn't it?

I had wanted this. So much. For so long. And there he was, that amazing, handsome man, who had been the sweetest I had ever known. Who had been patient and kind and waited for me when I was inexperienced and afraid. Who had taken it slow as I needed to, even though it had been hard on him. With whom I had, at long last, let love me in every sense of the word.

I should love him now, shouldn't I?

I was confused; everything I'd heard, felt, and expected wasn't matching up. He was my first time; he was perfect; he said he loved me.

Why didn't I?

What was wrong with me?

He was the one I had worried about. He was the one who had been hurt before, who had been unsure, who said he didn't feel emotions easily. He was the one who was supposed to stay cold, if anyone was, and not me. Not the clueless virgin he had let into his life.

Was that why?

Had I not let myself because of that? Because I was afraid that I would fall head over heels and he wouldn't? That I was afraid I would get hurt?

Had I done this to myself?