That moment of knowing that your fears are totally unfounded, that your trust in him has paid off, is bliss. When a slow song comes on, and all he wants is to cuddle you skin to skin? Bliss. To be shirtless in a throbbing gay club and he hasn’t flirted with anyone else? Bliss. Confidence. Trust. Reassurance. He’s definitely yours. He definitely likes you, like a lot.  No need to worry anymore. No reason for paranoia or jealousy. All the evidence you need is right in front of you. You wrap your arms around him and kiss the top of his head. You tell you that you love him, although you’re sure he can’t hear it over the music.

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Captions are fictional.