I open the card tentatively. It was addressed in her handwriting, and Lord knows I can't stand being around her for very long. It's too hard, to be totally honest. She just blows my mind with her every molecule and I can't stand it.

Separating myself from her is/was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I bring the card close to my face. The writing is tiny, but magically, still legible. She always was incredible like that.

"Dear Sam," I read. I roll my eyes.

"I want you, dork," My breath catches. "I want all the stuff that comes with you. I want cheesy love songs and I want to serenade you with Drops of Jupiter through my stereo because you deserve it. You deserve all of it. You deserve Parachute songs and tea at midnight and pretentious novels and you deserve far better than me but here I am and you're driving me so fucking crazy and I feel like I'm suffocating.

Fuck you. No, fuck me. No, scratch that- don't fuck me. You don't deserve to be fucked. You deserve to have sex, with roses and candles and cheesy pop rock KEZK shit in the background. You deserve to have love made to you- I hate that phrase, you aren't making love, you're fucking expressing it, but you deserve the best possible experience you could have. I want to sweep you completely off your feet and I would say that I want to knock your socks off except I know that you don't wear any and I know this, I know this because I love you and I fucking know you. I know that you only drink coffee when there's about 2% coffee in it and I know that you're really insecure and I don't know why because you are the most beautiful person I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on and Jesus Christ you are the most perfect thing- actually, no, you aren't perfect and that doesn't matter because your flaws are beautiful and I want to kiss you so bad it hurts.

Sorry if that wasn't eloquent enough. I was never good with words- but you know that, because I think you love me too.

Signed,

Tally"

I reread it again. And again. And seven or fifteen more times.

She loves me.

I breathe out.

She loves me.

I breathe in.

I drop the note on the floor and grab my keys.

I do my best to start my engine. My hands are shaking ridiculously hard.

Oh my god, she loves me.

And not just in that weird friendly "Oh Sammy you're so cute" way.

She loves me.

I blink.

She loves me.

I can't think about anything else. I'm driving to her apartment on autopilot.

She loves me.

I feel my foot pushing down further on the gas and I don't care because she loves me and its 3 AM and there's no way anyone else is out on these back roads. I'm almost to her apartment building.

She loves m