Bromance?

You're loud and I don't mind it. I just listen and smile. When you go quiet it's something else, though, like you've taken down the wall that was so thick and high you needed to shout to get sound across it.

It's funny how changing in front of someone everyday makes it basically impossible for anything to feel awkward.

You've got red hair and freckles and I think you're pretty. I think you're pretty in your basketball shorts and my t-shirt and with your hair all pulled back. It doesn't matter that you act like a guy or you hate dresses. I think you want to be pretty sometimes, too. Like when you talk about him and the way he made you feel, I can tell you just wanted one person to think you pretty, even when you couldn't.

I appreciate the way you cuddle. I like when you scoot close and lean on me and rest your head on my shoulder and tell me I'm comfy. You're so warm and quiet when you're that close.

I'm not good at cuddling closer; I'm always afraid of being shoved away. I'll brush my feet with yours and tie my legs with yours, but I can't rest my head on your shoulder. So I'm glad you can rest yours on mine. 

You say you're "my man" because sometimes I can't get the clips off of the bar in weight training and you have to do it for me. I normally laugh at that, I like that, it's our joke. Mom was around though, and she already thinks I'm gay enough. I'm sorry I didn't laugh yesterday. I just tightened my smile and changed the subject. I really am sorry for that. 

I'm glad you like being at my house and I'm glad you like my family.