This would be my last beautiful Tuesday evening before I go back to work. Lily was out of town for a workmate’s funeral, Diana gone home, done for the day and Nick out with his friends, I think. I decided to take a book with me to bed to distract my wondering “heathen” mind. I also vaguely worried about Nick staying out till late as he had said he would be home to watch the show- Dancing with the Stars at 8pm.
Stoically ignoring the tempting urge to swallow an anti-anxiety pill as prescribed 30 minutes before dreaded activity, I quickly abandoned the idea and tossed the medicine bottle in the drawer. Even distracting myself in the imagination of having warm arms around me seemed impossible; it was as though I was never going to escape from this constant nightmare on constant rewind. What excuse will I come up with, this time? We had cuddled all night, yesterday and I knew he would try to advance on me again today.
I hopelessly laid in bed, hoping against all hopes, that I would miraculously embrace him and eventually give in to his seemingly burning desire to make me the happiest.
I had almost dozed off when I heard a knock on my bedroom. Come in.
Nick stood crookedly at the door as if posing on the runway. Do you sleep with the lights on? He asked. No, I dozed off. When did you come back? I didn’t hear the gate open. Helping himself to a seat on my dresser bench, he leaned on his elbow and rested his beardless chin in his palm. I took extra care not make any noise in-case you were sleeping but I can see you are still awake.
That was thoughtful of you. I was reading the last chapter of this book before I dozed off. He loosened his neck tie, I should leave you go to sleep then,I saw the lights on and thought I should come say goodnight. Before I could say anything, he stood up again, leaned over, kissed me on the cheek and quickly but gently rubbed my cheek as if wiping the kiss off. Walking toward the door he whispered. Good night princess.
Goodnight Nick. I watched him close the door behind him as I slowly smoothed my eyebrows. My sleepy head was blank except for the repeated echo, goodnight princess, goodnight princess goodnight princess……
Until now I had been playing hard to get for suitors. I was doing a really bad job this time around. I had not just let this suitor in my borrowed bedroom but also in my little head. I caught myself delegating myself to the chores of a typical sweetheart.
Hey Nick, breakfast is ready when you are; he had his head buried in his suitcase. I took a few steps into his room and leaned against the wall. Do you have anything for ironing? I’m going to iron my blouse while you take a shower. He pulled out a black t-shirt and a blue stripped shirt, holding them up, which one? He asked. Hmmm, How about a short sleeve and not black because it is going to be over 90 degrees today. He buried his head in the suitcase again, Thanks for fixing breakfast, I’ll be there in a minute, he mumbled.
I sipped on my cup of coffee as I perused through the closet consciously looking for a sexy outfit which in my world usually looks like I’m going for a cooperate meeting.
I finally emerged ready to leave for town and Nick was outside smoking a cigarette. He came around and held the car door open for me. Thanks. You know smoking is not good for your health Nick. He strapped his seat belt and admittedly, nodded. I know, but you know how it is when you have smoked almost all your life. No, I don’t but I sure know you can quit if you decide to. With the wryest smile he nervously glanced at me. You are right. I need to quit.
It’s so weird the little things he does that I find incredibly cute. The way he flips his hair, it’s so sexy, very gentle and calculated. Sometimes he sounds like he’s hesitating to speak his mind and he sounds awkward. I aint so sure if this is a correct observation but it’s sexy anyway that he doesn’t assert the, “I’ll fix it” ego of most men.
There’s this sparkle in his eyes, kind of innocent and yet you know there is experience of a “bad” lover boy.
I’m not so sure what it is but I think I love this feeling of warmth and anticipation that beats my skeptical, insecure and tainted optimism.
Hellooooo, your seat-belt, I need to get you to your destination in one piece. He interrupted my thinking process, fading my winsome smile.
Nick, The best Voice Impressionist I have ever known. I remember him slamming the brakes at a STOP sign. he was distracted, busy imitating someone we both knew and I was laughing so hard. And the next thing I knew, I was laying on a hospital bed, all wrapped up in bandages. Did he make it? I wondered.
To be continued