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Worried.
“I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on or anything,” she says assertively.
“I just…I just need some air,” she finally gets out. Her face is a mixture of a dozen emotions, and all of them good.
I think.
I lift her down from the bench, noticing how light she is. Making a mental note to make sure she starts eating more.
But instead of opening a window or going outside for air, May starts to pace the kitchen, biting her thumbnail.
I’m happy to watch her do anything, and all day if needed.
As long as I know she wants me and that she hasn’t screamed and run a mile now she knows how I feel about her, I’m happy.
I’m more than fucking happy right now.
“I didn’t think you were leading me on, and I didn’t mean to be so forward,” I remark, taking a stool by the counter and settling myself onto it.
I watch her pace the kitchen, studying her youthful features while she grapples with something in her mind.
Hoping it hasn’t changed in the last few seconds.
“What’s wrong?” I finally have to ask.
She shakes her head and flashes me a smile.
“Nothing’s wrong, silly. I just need to process this,” she says, crimping her mouth and pacing again.
And as soon as I think it must be about her dad as well as me, I feel my cell buzzing in my back pocket.
I know it's Steve somehow, so I know I have to take this call.
May’s taking some deep breaths, but at least she’s stopped pacing.
I’ve heard of girls swooning from a kiss, but she looks like something’s come loose.
Clearing my throat before I answer, I watch May stiffen up again, tense.
She knows who it is as well as I do, and his timing seems to be as lousy as it is consistent.
“Hey, Steve,” I answer, trying not to sound too upbeat.
I can hear he’s calling from his car, probably still driving to the shop.
“B? Look, man, I’m sorry I acted like a jerk earlier. I guess I’m the one who needs a nap, but I can’t afford the time right now,” he chuckles but still sounds like he means it.
Steve’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. And I feel a stab of pride as well as guilt in my gut as I listen to his honest apology.
Even though I know already that we’re both gonna be sorry soon enough, I’ll take whatever he dishes out once he finds out.
And until then?
Well, until further notice from May, I think it’s best we keep our little secret a little more secret for a little longer.
“You don’t have to apologize, buddy,” I console him. “When do you finish again?” I ask, already calculating the potential hours' May and I have left to be alone.
More time to take things slower? Hmmm, maybe, but maybe not.
