what "Kiss Me Thru the Phone" really means

The first time he told her he loved her was over the phone.
They hadn’t seen each other in days.
He had texted her saying “I need 2 tell u sumthin wen I c u on Tuesday =)”.
She froze. She knew.
She felt it too.
But she flashed back to the horrible memories
of that first boy she ever kissed
and how she had lied and told him anyway
because she thought that she had to.
She was afraid, but she felt it too.
She didn’t want imperfections.
When she didn’t answer he called.
He asked if she was alright, again and again,
and she said she was.
He told her he didn’t believe her.
That she shouldn’t lie to him.
That’s when she spilled.
She told him how she wished they could run away together,
no parents, no friends, just the two of them.
She cried. He listened. He understood.
And then she spilled her secret of all secrets,
sobs, breaking up her sentence so it was barely intelligible.
She let it out, she let him in.
Let him in to a side of her no one had ever seen before
Let him in to her crazy, confused mind
Scattered with images of him,
her letting his lips run all the way down to her ankles,
and her on top of a girl, mouth to mouth, without a reason
but curiosity.
“Can I tell you what I wanted to tell you?”
“No,” she said at first.
But suddenly, she remembered how the night before,
she missed him so much after one day that it was physically painful.
How she had cried when they hung up the phone after an hour and a half.
It was never going to be perfect
and she realized then, that that was fine.
“You know what? I don’t care. Just tell me.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah…just say it.”
“Okay…”
She held her breath and heard him exhale.
“I love you.”