The speaker is caught in that uncertain space before a relationship has a name. They can't say whether what they feel is love, but they keep picturing what "us" might look like. The word delights them, and they also see how slippery it is: it can mean a great deal or almost nothing, defined or left vague. That mirrors their situation, since the "us" they imagine hasn't been confirmed by anyone else.
The second stanza turns inward. The speaker wishes they could simply ask the other person how they feel, and even admits that the answer might not settle anything. The honesty here is striking. They worry they may be talking themselves into believing there's more to this feeling than there really is.
The mood is tender, hesitant, and a little self-doubting. The loose, conversational phrasing, with its repeated "sometimes" and "maybe," makes it feel like a private thought slipping out, unfinished and unresolved.