“Did I get some of your mail again?” he says in jest.
My attempt to laugh is tempered by this afternoon’s news. “Looks like you might be receiving my mail for a long time to come.”
Keats has a peculiar look. “I’ll meet you inside.”
I lift my nose as a reply then open both boxes to find that no mail has been delivered today.
With a lack of energy, I head back inside to Keats’s house. Something else is bothering me right now, but I just can’t pinpoint it.
Walking to the kitchen, Keats came in via the side door and he’s already setting his laptop bag on a stool.
“You really should use that desk you have. That kitchen chair is basically a shelf,” I comment for the thousandth time. My low energy is sometimes when my wit comes out in full.
He licks his lips, trying to hold back a retort because he senses my low energy.
“The desk is waiting for you, if you want it. But someone said that’s as big a step as making me a pie. Now, what happened?” He leans against the counter with ankles crossed as he unbuttons his cufflinks. It’s my daily dose of Keats’snatural swagger that is distracting and fills my body with an uncontrollable hunger for this man.
Fluttering the lids of my eyes, I remind myself to stay focused. “My house issue is a lot bigger than we thought. The contractor and I walked through now that the debris has been cleared. My next step is to head to a kitchen store. I’m not even sure where to begin with all of this. Perhaps I’m overwhelmed.” Or it’s something else simmering under the surface.
“Hmm, well, did you really think it would all be solved faster?”
My head bows low. “No. It’s just… you’re being very kind for me to stay here, but this is going to be a lot longer than planned and maybe…” Is this what is bothering me?
Keats doesn’t move; instead, he has a cunning look, the kind that can chain me down. “You think it’s an issue?”
Rolling my eyes to the side, I hate that he has a key to my thoughts. “Perhaps.”
“Hmm.” He is making that sound again because he already has a theory in his head and he’s sticking to it. “It’s not an issue.”
“It could be months,” I recap what I learned today.
His facial expression remains poised. “And?”
My tongue glides along my upper lip, trying to think of a better angle to approach this since I have a sexy statue in my presence. “We’re kind of jumping into the deep end, maybe? It’s only been a few weeks, and we now face the prospect that I’m not leaving anytime soon.”
Now his face eases, except into a smirk which is just as damaging. “It’s more than a month or two that we’ve been going back and forth, getting to know one another through spirited debate before we transpired with broken pearls on my hallway floor.”
Walking a delicate line, I approach him because everything is emerging from a cloud. “You’re very right, but still, it’s a step, and then when my house is ready, I move back.” Is this me testing him?
Keats seems taken aback. “Oh… yeah… right. Makes sense. You have a house, after all.” Is that disappointment I hear?
Then it dawns on me, that whisper inside me that wasn’t clear. What it is that has me uneasy. The realization of the true reason I’ve been miserable today.
Because one day my house will be ready for me again.
Which means I won’t be here.
Because I’m beginning to realize that my old simple life, where I was going through the motions day to day, now feels different. There is someone who causes me suddenly to see everything in a different light. It’s excitement and wanting to be there for them.
I’m not the greatest at showing that, we’ve kind of only been together on the surface. We’ve avoided confronting what lies deep within.
“Silly, huh?” I attempt to laugh, but it’s nimble and lacking honesty. I step closer to the man that is as good as a boyfriend if we are really going to call it like it is. My hands find a place on either side of his body, resting on the counter. He loops his arms around me to yank me close so our middles touch.
“I mean, we’ll be neighbors who share a bed sometimes,” I clarify, and the thought sounds like misery. I’m tiptoeing my words to build to what we really are.
More.
I want to be the same to him as the way he treats me.
