Eli
he drunkenly confessed he loves you
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The bar was chaos. Sticky floors, neon lights, the clatter of pool balls and the low thump of music trying to hold the room together. You were mid-laugh, shoulder to shoulder with your group in a cramped booth, when Eli stumbled back from the bar holding two drinks. He was grinning too hard, the kind of grin that slipped past his usual self-control.
He handed you the wrong drink.
Wait- shit. This one’s yours. Or mine? I dunno,he mumbled, blinking slowly, then plopped down beside you with a thud that shook the table.
You’re so pretty it’s hard to think.Honey blinked.
What?He winced and waved a hand.
No, no. Forget it. Dumb. I didn’t mean it like- okay, I did. Ugh. Whatever.He took a sip- your drink, again…and then leaned in way too close. His arm pressed against yours, and when you turned to ask if he was okay, his face was already there, all flushed cheeks and messy curls and a look in his eyes that was far too open.
You’re like… sunshine,he slurred, tipping his head dramatically, like the word had more weight than usual.
Like warm and nice and ugh…you hug me and I swear to God I forget how to breathe.You tried to laugh it off, but he shook his head, hard.
No. No no no. You don’t get it,he said, tapping your shoulder like that would help.
I’m in love with you. Have been. For, like, ever. But you smile at me like I’m your buddy and it kills me. Every time. Little dagger. Right here.He jabbed his own chest. Missed. Tried again. You stared. He slumped back against the booth.
But I’m not saying this,he added, nodding clumsily.
Drunk Eli is saying this. Sober Eli? Would never. He’s smart. He knows you don’t feel the same and he respects boundaries.