Date: 2011-06-19 05:17 am (UTC)
When I finish talking, she just looks at me with her eyes sad and wide and wanting something, And then she’s calling me an idiot and—oh no. Oh, no.

Don’t answer her back then, because I’m still working through what I think she means. And then she asks very quietly and clipped what I mean. She’s gone so still on top of me. Somehow I have fucked up, or she thinks I have. God in heaven, not this ruined too. Please, no. I lick my lips, thinking really hard about what to say, because it has to be absolutely right. Just like the first time I met her. And there it is. “I mean that I didn’t come to you asking you to take me in out of the goodness of your heart because we’re friends. I’m trying to earn my keep here, sweetheart. I know you don’t need a freeloader.”

There, that’s all true, and it’s an explanation, but it’s not very tender, though I try to say it nicely. I think she’s maybe looking for something more. Reach up and touch her cheek with two fingers, hoping she isn’t about to kick me or something. “It’s why I keep saying thank you, and you keep telling me not to. This is so good, and I wouldn’t be in anyone else’s bed now for the world, God’s honest truth.” And it really is. Maybe that’ll be enough for her. It’s what I can say.
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