Chapter 34
The Triangular Theory of Love
Emily
The sun streamed through the window against a vivid blue sky, illuminating the leaves of my therapist’s potted plant. The plant was nourished by the damp earth beneath, I reflected, and I felt nourished too.
Today I appreciated the artwork on the wall. It reminded me of something—I just couldn’t pinpoint what.
“How are you feeling today, Emily?” Caroline inquired.
My response was immediate. “I’m happy.”
“That’s great.” Her gaze stayed on me, steady and patient. I let a few seconds pass but she didn’t add anything.
“Yeah,” I said, “I’m excited every morning when I wake up. I even beat my alarm clock sometimes, which never happened before.” I darted a glance at the clock on the wall. Shoot, this session was going to be long...
Caroline’s eyes shifted from the clock back to me. “Do you have plans to go somewhere after this?”
“No.” Being in his arms!
I kept that thought to myself. Otherwise I’d get a lecture about not making my entire life dependent on him. I wasn’t naive; I was just deeply in love.
Prom was around the corner. Some people had got their promposals already, and I had this gut feeling that it was my turn soon.
“How’s the situation at home?” Caroline asked, her pen poised to scribble down whatever I had to say.
“With Paul it’s still... tricky,” I confessed. Things with Paul had been different ever since what happened at the lake. He didn’t try to initiate body contact anymore, and when I asked if he wanted to watch Grey with me, he said he wasn’t in the mood. I respected that, but I still missed him.
Caroline sighed. “Are you saying you want Paul to start trying again?” Her placid tone made me grit my teeth.
“Um... no, of course not.” I paused, realizing the irrationality. I was caught in a dilemma—too much attention from Paul made me uneasy, while too little was unsatisfying. “I just want us to talk like we used to. But there’s something weird between us.”
Caroline jotted something down. I wished I could read her notes. “Were you entirely honest with him about your feelings for him?”
I shifted uncomfortably on the worn-down spot on the couch. “I tried once,” I said. “But he said he didn’t want to hear it since it wouldn’t change the situation anyway.”
Caroline nodded knowingly. Her pen danced across the notepad. “It’s a delicate balance. Communication is key, but it’s also about finding the right timing and expressing yourself in a way that doesn’t leave room for interpretation.”
“I don’t want to give him false hope by bringing it up again. I love Jon. And yes, I feel something for Paul too, but I’ve got no right to. I shouldn’t.”
Caroline leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s not uncommon. Especially at your age, when you get introduced to different types of love.”
“Different types of love?”
“Yes. Did you know that there are eight different types?”
I shook my head, and finally she put her notes down. “In the triangular theory of love, there are three components of love that form a triangle: intimacy, commitment and passion.”
I leaned up in my seat. “Aren’t intimacy and passion the same?”
“Not at all.” Caroline smiled. “Intimacy isn’t necessarily physical. It can be a good talk, sharing your vulnerabilities with one another. Intimacy creates a strong bond—you feel like you can be your true self with that person.”
“I have that with both of them,” I concluded. “But I’m not committed to Paul.”
She shook her head. “Commitment isn’t only about agreeing to be in a relationship. You can also feel commitment to a close friend or a family member.”
I tensed. “Paul is both of those for me.”
“Exactly.”
“And I did have passion with him too...” I sighed. This wasn’t leading anywhere.
“Passion isn’t only sexual, though. You can feel excitement for him, joy when you do something together. That can also be very passionate.”
I raised my eyebrow. “You said there are eight types of love, but those are only three.”
“The eight types are made up of different combinations of those three components. There’s non-love, which doesn’t have any corners of the triangle. Friendship, which includes some degree of intimacy. Infatuated love, which is only passion. Empty love, which only has commitment, like in an arranged marriage. Fatuous love, which is missing intimacy. Romantic love—”
“The one I have with Jon?”
“No, romantic love has only passion and intimacy, but no commitment. Like an affair or one-night stand.”
“Then which one do I have with Jon and Paul?” I was getting impatient.
“The last two are companionate love and consummate love.”
My head was spinning.
“Companionate love is when you’re intimate with someone and you share a commitment, not necessarily by being a couple. Long-term relationships turn into this when the passion trails off. I believe that this is what you feel for Paul. You feel deep intimacy with him and commitment, seeing you’re part of his family, but you don’t feel drawn to him the way you used to because—”
“Because I found consummate love with Jon.”
“All three aspects of the love triangle, yes. Love doesn’t come from a manual. It comes in different shapes. You can love two people at the same time, but that doesn’t mean you feel the same way about them.”
I nodded. It made sense. I always knew my feelings for Jon and Paul were different...
Caroline picked up her notes, and I could tell by the movement of her hand that she made something like a check mark on her paper.
Caroline let me out early. A genuine smile stretched across my face when I spotted my handsome boy in his leather jacket leaning against my locker, scribbling away in his little black book.
“You writing something for me to read?” I kissed him on the cheek, and he grabbed me by the wrist and pushed me gently against the locker. Our noses brushed against each other.
“What if it’s private?” he breathed, his gaze fixed on my lips.
“We have secrets?” I said, staring at his lips in turn.
“Maybe,” he said, running his thumb over my mouth. “When it has something to do with a surprise.”
“What are you planning, Jon Henry Denson?” I smirked, internally screaming. It must be about prom.
“Something you won’t forget for the rest of your life.”
My heartbeat picked up, and I bit the spot he’d touched on my lip. “The rest of my life is a long time.”
“Not long enough.” His eyes narrowed before he pressed his lips onto mine and—
“Guys, if you wanna wall-fuck or whatever, get a room.”
It was Aiden, with Brandon by his side. Jon and I stepped apart.
“What’s up, German?” Brandon greeted me with a broad smile. “Long time no see.”
“We see each other every other day in US History,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, but you only have eyes for Jon. And me for Hannah. Life is good.” He winked and said a hasty goodbye as he noticed Hannah’s fiery red hair down the hall.
Jon and I both laughed, but Aiden blew out a huge amount of air. “You guys are exhausting.”
“Feeling lonely?” Jon said.
“With all the drama you guys have, I’d rather be a bit lonely than put my blood pressure through this.” Aiden waved and walked away.
“Speaking of blood pressure,” Jon said to me, “you have your appointment with the gynecologist today, right?”
“I do.” I grinned like mad.
“Fuck, finally!” Jon pumped his fist in the air like he’d won a championship.
“So what are your plans for today?” I asked, turning to my locker to get my book.
He dropped his arm. “I’m getting my ass interrogated at the doctor’s too.”
“Already?” I gasped.
“When my mother wants something she can be convincing.” He smiled. “Kinda like you.”
“Every reason that makes it easier for you to stay sober is a blessing.”
He put his thumb on my chin. “I only need one reason to stay strong.”
“You’re so corny,” I said, even though blood had shot into my ears.
Jon made a funny face. “I was going to say tacos, but—”
“Hey!” I laughed and nudged him.
“You’re right after tacos. I promise.” He leaned in close for a kiss.
“I hate you.”
“And I love you, Little German.” We kissed deeper, and the ground below me vanished as my knees turned into annoyingly soft butter. Intimacy, commitment and passion. We were the triangular theory of love.
“So much,” I exhaled, and Jon traced his way into my mouth with his tongue. Breathing me in like oxygen.
“Now go to the fucking doctor so I can finally make love to you until we forget those fucking drugs.”
“With pleasure.”
He kissed my cheeks and we walked down the hall toward our separate classes, our hands slowly slipping apart when it was time to part ways. I grinned after him like a little kid, watching him until he turned the corner.
Looking away, I noticed we had an audience. A few girls gaped in my direction—but their eyes weren’t on me at all. Breana had her tongue down Jackson’s throat. Madison’s boyfriend. Or maybe ex-boyfriend? I had no idea. I debated whether to tell Breana or walk away.
I sighed. Despite my dislike for Madison, I couldn’t just ignore what was unfolding. I went up to Breana and tapped her shoulder. “Breana?”
She pulled away from Jackson with an annoyed frown. “Can’t you see that I’m busy here?”
“Busy with a taken man,” I retorted, glancing at Jackson, who huffed.
“He broke up with Madison. I’m not a cheater like you,” Breana shot back.
Ignoring her, I turned to Jackson. “You broke up with her despite... you know?” I glanced down at my belly, then back at him.
He popped a piece of gum in his mouth. “It’s her fault she didn’t take the morning-after pill,” he said, chewing. “Not my problem.”
My palm flew through the air and slapped his cheek so fast, I barely registered it.
“Fuck!” he yelped, holding the side of his face.
“You fucking asshole. It takes two to get someone pregnant. You’re a coward to leave her alone in this,” I hissed so only he and Breana could hear.
“Pregnant?!” Breana squealed.
I didn’t explain further, just walked away, shaking my head. No one deserved this, not even Madison.