I fear being drunk and being in love are essentially the same thing. The blissful infatuation exuding from your soul and a tendency of impulsive decisions that you’ll probably regret later. But drunk or not, your eyes melted the same way they usually do when you looked at me.
Ironically enough, something as adult as alcohol brought out more innocence hiding in your smile, and in innocence there is vulnerability. In vulnerability there is courage, and there was the push you needed to ask the question I’ve been wishing for since we were kids. But your awaited question made me overthink my rehearsed answer, and all I could say was,
“Are you even sober right now?”
“Of course.”
I knew the warmth of alcohol could feel a lot like that of love.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Really. Ask me anything.”
So I typed random numbers into a calculator.
“What’s 25 x 75?”
You thought for a moment. You stared at me like you could see the equation written in my eyes. Finally,
“1,875.”
I showed you the same answer on the calculator. You kissed me with the smile I remember from middle school. You’ve always been good at math, but the truth is, I would’ve said yes even if you had gotten it wrong.
