It Starts with Us by Colleen Hoover

way up my throat, and I didn’t want to say it, couldn’t say it, because I
didn’t want you to think it was too fast, or that those words held no
weight for me. They were the heaviest damn thing I’d ever carried.
But I think about that day so much, Lily, and I have no idea if that’s
what love feels like for everyone, like it’s an airplane that just fell from
the sky and crashed right through you. Because most people, they have
love seeping in and out their whole lives. They’re born being wrapped
in it and they go their whole childhood being protected by it, and they
have people in their lives that welcome their love in return, so I’m not
sure it hits people like it hit me—in one small moment, in such a
colossal way.
You were wearing this shirt I loved. It was too big for you, and the
sleeve was always falling off your shoulder. I should have been
watching the cartoon, but I couldn’t stop staring at that stretch of
exposed skin between your neck and your shoulder. As I was looking at
it, I once again felt that incredible pull to say I love you, and the words
were there, right on the tip of my tongue, so I leaned forward and
pressed them against your skin.
And that’s where they stayed, hidden and quiet, until I worked up the
courage to speak them out loud to you six months later.
I had no idea you remembered that kiss, or all the times I kissed you
in that spot after that day. Even when I read it in your journal, you
rushed past it in a hurry to get to what you considered our actual first
kiss, so I had no idea that it even meant anything to you until the
moment I saw your tattoo. I can’t tell you what that means to me,
knowing that you have our heart placed in the very spot where I once
secretly buried the words I love you.
I want you to promise me something, Lily. When you look at that
tattoo, I don’t want you to think about anything other than the words
I’ve written in this letter. And every time I kiss you there, I want you to
remember why I kissed you there the first time. Love. Discovering it,
giving it, receiving it, falling in it, living in it, leaving for it.
I’m writing this letter while sitting on the floor of Josh’s bedroom.
My experience with Josh tonight is kind of what sparked my memory.
He’s sick with a stomach bug. Maybe not as sick as I was the day I first
realized I loved you, but very, very sick nonetheless. He caught it from
Theo, who had it a few days ago.