The way I felt about Bobby, when I let myself give into the way I felt about him, was heady and intoxicating. I wanted to be around him when I wasn’t. I wanted to say things to him, I just didn’t know the words yet. I wanted to listen to him speak. I wanted to give him something, do something for him. I just didn’t know what, but I knew that I would know when the time was right.
I didn’t care if I couldn’t explain it, because I could feel it. It was like every time we spent time together he was asking me to come with him, to be there, with him. It was all very super melodramatic, but I knew it was true because it’s what I felt. And I’d never felt that way before, so I didn’t know for sure how overwhelming it could feel, but I did know I wasn’t going to run from it.
Karen’s friendly warning was a signal to run.
She was telling me to get out now because it wasn’t going to work in the end. But even if she was right, I had to keep going because I didn’t know exactly what it was, and I needed to find out. “Karen,” I said. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I think, but I‟m not sure you’re right about this.”
“Why wouldn’t I be right, Jen? Come on.” She seemed pestered by my nonchalant dismissal.
“You’re smart and pretty. Guys like you, you know. I hear it, I know. Bobby isn’t the end all and be all. And I don’t want you thinking I want him for myself or anything.”
I hadn’t thought that, even for a second, but I will admit it was sort of a relief to hear her say it.