“Lying there on his chest, my hand over his heart, I admitted to myself that ‘making love’ was what we’d done, and it kinda freaked me out. It was far too soon for those feelings, yet I definitely felt something extra with him. Something deep within that could very well blossom into love. A strong love. And who knew—possibly an everlasting love. But what was love, really? Was it definitive, the same for everyone who experienced it? Or was it unique, unlike any other form? Or perhaps love was... Santa, a make-believe, jolly, fat sack-of-bullshit? I glanced up at Brad, trying desperately not to make any sudden movements and wake him. He looked so peaceful, so sated … so happily fucked. He definitely didn’t look like Santa. And that was because love wasn’t Santa. Love was simply an opinion, a notion that could be judged, categorised, and of course, ridiculed. But love belonged to you and was how you felt about whoever or whatever. It was yours to give and detract.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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