It was becoming increasingly obvious that he'd chosen the wrong words, though he didn't know exactly how.
"No... no, wait..." he tried no fewer than four times to interrupt her while she spoke, tell her that she was getting the wrong idea. But when she finished, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head no. "No, that's not..." he swallowed nervously. "That's not what I meant. That's..." he trailed off. "I don't want you to go. If... if you don't want to."
Band aid approach would have been smarter, but David had never been one to take the smart path, obviously.
"I meant... I meant this." He turned his phone toward her and swallowed nervously. "I never responded. I should've said something before now, but..." he shook his head. "Just never seemed to find the right time." I was too afraid, he added inwardly.
Breathing in a slow, steadying breath, David pulled his lower lip into his mouth. "But you should know. You should."
His eyes started down on his hands when he said, "Me too..." of the message. "I mean... I..." he turned his head, looking at her now, and chuckled awkwardly. "I feel the same way. I love you too, Elle. I just..." he laughed again, nervous habit, "I didn't want to say it via text."