188.)

My weekends with Blossom were becoming more routine. Routine in a nice way. We had established a baseline for our relationship, both platonically and romantically. We had our go-to activities like watching TV and ordering food and diapering each other. Even the acts of turning on the heat and hiding under a blanket together were routine. With stuff like that, it was easy to believe Stephanie when she said that mindfulness was a habit I needed to build.

But the routine was altered when Blossom said: "Do you mind if we take a break from baby stuff for tonight?"

I blinked. Did I do something wrong? Did I screw up last weekend, with the kissy stuff? Or was this about my freak out on Valentine's Day? But Blossom anticipated my panic.

"It has nothing to do with you," she reassured Amy. "I'm just exhausted from school and I want a quiet day."

"Quiet Day, like Academy T?" I joked. If that was the case, she definitely needed diapers! She needed to be taken care of like a dumb, drooling little girl. But I was deflecting.

"Nooooo," Blossom whined, but now that Amy mentioned it... "No, no, no. I mean, like... Valentine's Day was a lot of emotions for me, and I want to return to baseline a little."

Wasn't our baseline dressing up like little girls? Or roleplaying. We always seemed to roleplay on Fridays.

"I guess that's fine," I sulked. I wasn't even particularly looking forward to the whole baby thing tonight; I just didn't like that she took it off the table. Usually Blossom was the one to set the table!

"It doesn't sound fine."

"I said it's fine," I shrugged.

With a sigh, Blossom sat up on the couch and took Amy's cheeks in her hands, forcing Amy to look her in the eye.

"I promise, I want to dress you up and fill your bottles and tease you mercilessly. And I will probably do those things tomorrow. I just want to feel close with you without all the baby stuff, so I am reassured that you still like me. You know, for me. And if you say you're fine, and you're not fine, you're going to not sleep, and then I can't do the dress up and bottle filling and teasing tomorrow. Okay?"

I don't know why... probably that look in her eye, or that tone in her voice... but I believed her. So maybe this wasn't about me. There were days I wasn't feeling it, days I didn't want to be diapered, so maybe this was just one of those for her. It was just surprising to imagine Blossom and I had the same feelings about things.

"Okay... I get it," I said, trying not to sound too pouty. "But I don't get why you think I wouldn't like you. I like you a lot."

"I like you a lot too, but I'm sure there have been times where your insecurity gets to you and whispers things like "does she only like me for my writing?" Or "what if I stopped writing?" Or "what if I stopped making her midnight baked goods?" And you get a little chill of anxiety and insecurity, right?"

At the best of times, feelings were hard to understand. When it came to someone else's feelings... well, that was a whole different language.

"Yeah, I get that." It wasn't that I didn't understand how Blossom was feeling; it was just that I didn't know Blossom felt those ways.

When the heat finally came on and the house started to heat up, we didn't kick off the blanket. Blossom turned on the TV and put on The Good Place. And that's where we stayed for most of the evening, with my back against the corner of the sectional and Blossom's head in the crook of my arm. Funnily enough, when I wasn't feeling particularly Little, I preferred her laying on me rather than the other way around.

When our night began, I didn't understand what Blossom needed. I didn't know how a night without baby stuff was going to make her more comfortable or content. I didn't know what baseline she was looking to find. But after doing nothing together for a few hours - nothing but talking about a TV show and adjusting our position every now and again - I knew what she meant.

Because baby stuff was kind of exhausting. Grappling with insecurity was kind of exhausting. Worrying if I looked cute was kind of exhausting. Wondering if I was acting the right way was kind of exhausting. But doing nothing wasn't exhausting. Existing wasn't exhausting, not with Blossom Brixley.

I thought for sure that I wouldn't be able to get to sleep that night, but everything felt so easy that sleep felt easy too. Lying next to Blossom in my bed, with her arm over my stomach and forehead against the back of my head, all I had to do was close my eyes.