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Communderstanding.

“What am I to you?” he said, turning to look at the lake, his nostrils flaring. “You’re my boyfriend,” I said, rising to a kneel and wrapping my arms around him from behind. “For now,” he said, stiffening at my touch. “Until you find somebody at your fancy college who doesn’t have trouble understanding movies and gets the weird books you like.” “Grant,” I said, kissing the back of his neck. “I like you, all right?” “But you don’t think I can understand you,” he said.

Meredith Russo: If I Was Your Girl