And I Would Walk Five-Hundred Miles

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head and staring down at his food.

“Love’s a strong word. Are you sure that’s how you really feel?”

I knew I was prodding, but wouldn’t you if you thought that the person being spoken about was you?

“I think so, but then again, I wouldn’t say I’m 100% positive.”

“Oh...” I felt my face fall a bit, “Well, you know I’m here to help you if you need anything: an open ear and such.”

He smiled and said, “I know.” He got up out of his chair, took his plate to the sink, and started scrubbing.

“I’ll do that. You go get dressed,” I said as I got up and walked over to the sink.

“Are you sure?” he asked while putting the plate in the drying rack.

“I’m positive. Now go.”

I nudged him with my hip and he laughed, “Okay! Okay! I’m going!” With that, he walked to the living room, got a pair of clean boxers out of his suitcase, and went to my bathroom.

I sighed, letting go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I put away the leftovers and started to scrub the plates furiously. After I finished with the dishes, I washed my hands to get rid of food particles. Then I set my eyes on my next task, Micah’s bed.

“You’d think a tornado ran through here,” I said to myself.

I started to unravel the sheets. After that was done, I grabbed one corner of the sheet and matched it to the corner of the mattress. I went to the opposite side, and as I was about to pick up the other corner of the sheet, I felt an arm wrap around me.

“Let me do that,” came his voice, hot and next to my ear. I felt myself blush as I moved out of the way.

“I insist. You’re the guest; I’ll do it myself,” I mumbled, still blushing from the proximity of his nearly naked body.

“Not at all. It would be rude of me to not offer my help. I’m a guest not a burden.”

I watched as he made the bed: his chest glowing in the dim light of the living room. When he went to flip the mattress closed and turn it back into a couch, I could see his muscles flex, and I could feel my mouth beginning to water.

God I wish I could work up the nerve to just tell him how I feel.

But I couldn’t.

I shouldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

I can’t.

And watching him move, his back gracefully arcing as he put the cushions back, made me realize that I loved him that much more, even if he didn’t (or did) feel the same way about me.

He turned to his suit case and pulled a black t-shirt and jeans. He quickly got dressed and pulled his wallet from the pants he was wearing the night before. Checking that he had cash on him, he said, “Off to the museum then!” He grabbed my hand, and I said, “Whoa buddy, I have to change, I’m not going out like this.”

“You look fine.”

“But I want to look beautiful. And I don’t even have shoes on!”

With that, I ran into the room and closed the door, I applied cover-up and blush, and I changed into a black Chadam t-shirt and threw off my socks and put on patent leather, red flats. With one quick flick of my hairbrush, I walked out of the room.

“Now, I’m ready.”

He looked at me up and down and smiled.

“Still fine?” I asked, daring him to change his answer.

“No… beautiful.”

I smiled and said, “And now?”

“Off to the museum!”