And I Would Walk Five-Hundred Miles

"So," he said.

"So," I said right back.

We stared at each other for a second. And then he just lunged at me. He gave me a tight squeeze: a death hug, if you will.

"Cant breathe!!!!"

He hugged me even tighter.

"I've missed you so much. I've hated not having you around."

I laughed and tried pulling him off me. No such luck.

"I love you too, Micah."

He laughed and released me from his tight grasp. He said, "Now I have you for two weeks, and we'll catch up. So what do you have planned for me?"

"A very exciting two weeks."

"Like..?"

"Well, you're going to see the museum, the library, Buckingham, the Tower of London, the opening of Equus: The Musical, the opening of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows movie, and a mystery trip among many other awesome things."

"Mystery trip? Where are we going?"

"Now, it wouldn't be a mystery if I told you, now would it?"

"Well, no, but-"

"But nothing. I'm not telling you. It will be five days from now, we'll be gone for three days, and that’s all I'm telling you," I smiled.

He glared at me. I smiled and smacked him.

"Ow! What the fuck was that for?"

"Because I can," I laughed even louder.

He rubbed his arm a bit violently and began, "So tell me how London is. How is your life?"

"Um.... Well, I really don't have a lot of friends here.... except, of course, for Mr. H, and this guy Gregory from my favorite store, Fashion Backward. If I'm not at work, at home writing, or shopping, I'm lonely. I know, it's pretty pathetic, but whatever, that's how life is, I guess."

"It's not pathetic," he said. Then he paused for a while. I could tell he was thinking about saying something, and finally asked, "So is this Gregory guy your boyfriend?"

"Ha! Greg, my boyfriend? No, he's not my boyfriend. He's just a buddy. I buy his clothes, and he tells me when new Warhol recreations are in at the store. We go out every once in a while, you know, to the pub, or we go to the movies together, but we're not together, you know?"

He looked at me suspiciously, like he wasn’t positive that I was telling him the truth.

"Have you ever kissed this Greg guy?"

"No, Micah. Please, what do you take me for?"

"Someone with too much self-control. Geez, Lydia. You have had one boyfriend in your entire life, and you’re twenty-one. You have to stop being so picky," he laughed a somewhat nervous laugh, as if he wasn't sure whether or not he was going to get smacked again.

Well, I didn't find it funny at all. Since when was he my relationship specialist?

"Well, I'm not picky; it's that I can't compromise my standards. Besides, Mr. Warhol once said, 'The idea of waiting for something makes it more exciting.' And I rather wait for the perfect guy for me to come along than date a bunch of random guys to find him."

Besides, my perfect guy is sitting on this couch. Why should I bother to look any further? Not that he'll ever see me that way. I guess I'm not good enough, or I don't throw myself at him enough. I won't do that though. I would rather not compromise my standards for myself.]

"How do you expect to find the perfect guy for you if you don't date? That makes no sense, love."

Touché.

"Ugh whatever. Do you want to watch a movie? I have a bunch."

"Sure. Go ahead and put on whatever you want."

"The Producers it is."

"You're going to make me sit through a musical?"

"Mmhmm. If you do, I'll take you to the best nightclub in London, okay?"

"Okay. But if I get drunk, it's your fault."

"Why?"

"Because you convinced me to go with you to a club as collateral for watching a musical with you. No musical means so drunkenness."

This boy is crazy....

"Whatever, darling."

And with that, I popped the DVD in.