apprehension

Apprehension: that first day I went round to your house and met your parents. You told me not to worry, to be myself, but I couldn’t help worrying. What use was being myself if your parents didn’t like it? What even is being myself? You kissed me once on the lips, to stop me rambling on, I guess; and took my hand. One kiss from you was all it took to calm the feverish butterflies dancing in my stomach. I knew in that moment things would be all right, despite the shake in my wrist and the tremor in my voice as I tried to display the best me I could in my insecure state.

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