Hidden Beneath the Paper.
.11
"How'd you manage that?" I asked. I felt good, even though I had a little panic attack back home. I hoped to keep my mood in check while I stayed at his house. I didn't want to come off as a lunatic anymore. He told me that his uncle was on the rich side and heard he was having money issues when he was in college for his teaching degree, so his uncle decided to pay for the house for him. I followed behind him awkwardly. I followed him through the rooms, he acted like a tour guide, which made me smile. Each room was wonderfully decorated. He said that he did the decorating himself. He began to gloat a little, which I didn't mind. He took me upstairs to his huge guest room. It was bigger than my living room. I put my bag down and sat on the bed, unsure what to do. He smiled at me, putting his hands on his hips sassily.
"Are you hungry?" He asked, his green eyes looked welcoming. I immediately said no, not wanting to impose so much already. He shook his head, telling me he could hear my stomach growling when he had given me the huge tour around his house. I blushed, putting my hand on my stomach. I smiled and looked back up at him. I followed him back downstairs to his kitchen. He began telling me silly stories about his family - mostly about his little brother Mikey. I leaned against the counter island in the middle of his kitchen. Watching him move around the cabinets and stove like this was more than art then painting was.
I really liked this. I liked how he distracted me from my mourning. I liked how he got me away from my ghostly house. I liked watching his body move fluidly around his kitchen as he cooked me food. I wanted to do something for him to repay him. I'd do anything. I boldly walked around the kitchen, finding the plates and setting the table in the room that was connected to the kitchen. The dinning room was decorated ornately. He watched me with a huge smile on his face as I moved around him, trying to find the silverware. Dinner was was amazing. He was skilled in more than one way. I wonder what else he was skilled in. I set the table so we'd eat across from each other.
"So, how does a guy like you manage to stay single?" I asked, surprised at myself for asking such a question. I took a big bite of my tri-tip steak. He put his fork down, blushing. He wiped his mouth off with a small cloth napkin.
"Girls don't tend to like the loner that spends most of his time in comic book stores," he answered, making himself seem like a 14 year old dork that still didn't know anything about girls nor had the interest to find out more about them.
"But, you're like perfect. You're attractive, you're artistic, you can sing, and you can cook," I gawked. I then put down my fork myself, realizing what I just did. I glanced up at him. He was staring intently at me, his cheeks were red. I gulped and looked down at my food, smiling. The room filled with awkward air. I couldn't help but laugh. I looked back up at him.
"I-I'm sorry," I apologized. Gosh, I was becoming crazy. He smiled and told said don't be. I blushed and continued eating. I wondered what he thought about me. I figured he just saw me as a insane girl that was emotionally unstable because her mother just died. I figured that's just how most people saw me.
"Are you hungry?" He asked, his green eyes looked welcoming. I immediately said no, not wanting to impose so much already. He shook his head, telling me he could hear my stomach growling when he had given me the huge tour around his house. I blushed, putting my hand on my stomach. I smiled and looked back up at him. I followed him back downstairs to his kitchen. He began telling me silly stories about his family - mostly about his little brother Mikey. I leaned against the counter island in the middle of his kitchen. Watching him move around the cabinets and stove like this was more than art then painting was.
I really liked this. I liked how he distracted me from my mourning. I liked how he got me away from my ghostly house. I liked watching his body move fluidly around his kitchen as he cooked me food. I wanted to do something for him to repay him. I'd do anything. I boldly walked around the kitchen, finding the plates and setting the table in the room that was connected to the kitchen. The dinning room was decorated ornately. He watched me with a huge smile on his face as I moved around him, trying to find the silverware. Dinner was was amazing. He was skilled in more than one way. I wonder what else he was skilled in. I set the table so we'd eat across from each other.
"So, how does a guy like you manage to stay single?" I asked, surprised at myself for asking such a question. I took a big bite of my tri-tip steak. He put his fork down, blushing. He wiped his mouth off with a small cloth napkin.
"Girls don't tend to like the loner that spends most of his time in comic book stores," he answered, making himself seem like a 14 year old dork that still didn't know anything about girls nor had the interest to find out more about them.
"But, you're like perfect. You're attractive, you're artistic, you can sing, and you can cook," I gawked. I then put down my fork myself, realizing what I just did. I glanced up at him. He was staring intently at me, his cheeks were red. I gulped and looked down at my food, smiling. The room filled with awkward air. I couldn't help but laugh. I looked back up at him.
"I-I'm sorry," I apologized. Gosh, I was becoming crazy. He smiled and told said don't be. I blushed and continued eating. I wondered what he thought about me. I figured he just saw me as a insane girl that was emotionally unstable because her mother just died. I figured that's just how most people saw me.