She wanted to, she needed to, but she couldn't.
She wanted somebody to love, someone she could talk to, to hold her at every moment of insecurity. Someone to wipe away the tears that would well up at the corner of her eyes, someone to tell her everything would work out right.
She was afraid to reach out, afraid to connect like that. She hadn't been scarred, no wounds from past loves. She had heard the stories. She knew that she could be burned, knew that her heart might shatter at the sound of a good-bye.
But still, she wanted it. To feel that vulnerability, to let down her shield. She wanted to be able to tell someone that she liked everything about them, their speech, the way they fixed her problems, and not be ashamed.
She had had boyfriends before, but that's all they were. Boy friends. Not companions. Not mature enough to let down their own guards and sacrifice their own ego for hers. She wanted someone who cared.