So every date Michael and I have been on we’ve been ending the night with a kiss before my apartment door. The date was always fun. We’d go anywhere and let loose; it didn’t even have to be dinner, sometimes we grabbed breakfast, or we took a walk on the beach. We were just so comfortable around each other, not to mention Michael being a self-proclaimed asshole was somewhat enjoyable whenever I had a chance to annoy him as much as he annoyed me whenever he got the chance. It was great.
There was only one problem. He never ever came inside the apartment, even when I asked.
He always had some excuse waiting at the seams of my proposition and it became increasingly apparent it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. I started second guessing myself then, as you do. Must be that extra chromosome thing he’s always said (jokingly). I started to feel pathetic at one point and ended up just holding back from asking. Oh, it isn’t without difficulty I could tell you.
I’d be up against the door with my back, and he’d have my hands running up and down my body. I’d taste the aftermath of a cigarette lingering on his tongue and it wasn’t so overpowering that I couldn’t stand it. It was an interesting, almost bitter taste. I’d want him so badly; he’d make me so wet to the point where I’m gripping him and pulling him closer into me. I’d grab a fist full of his white shirt and pull him forcibly. He’d place his hand on my neck just under my jaw line and push me back to make way for a string of kisses down my neck. We all but had sex in the hallway! But he never entered the apartment with me. And I always wondered why.
That was until I got sick.
I’d been obsessing to the girls over this situation when I fell sick. They of course had no clue what to do and my brain kept rattling for understanding, but nothing came up. When I left I came home with nothing but a sickness that I had to cancel my next date with Michael. The weekend would just have to be spent wallowing.
On Saturday at around noon my phone started vibrating up on the bedside table. Did I tell you I got a new phone? Yup. It buzzes a lot less shockingly than my old Blackberry so now I can stand it being on vibrate.
“Hello?” I answered coarsely.
“Whoa. You don’t sound too good.”
I groaned. I so did not want him to hear me in all my sick glory. “I thought I cancelled already.”
“You did. I’m just checking to see how you are.”
“I feel like shit.”
He chuckled. “I can tell.”
Groan number two. “Do I really sound that bad?”
“Of course not. Like a sick angel.”
I laughed and it hurt my chest. “Fuck you,” I squeaked.
He laughed. “Aww poor baby. That’s what you get for acting all sass with me.”
“I’m not sass.”
“Oh, like a cat.”
I chortled throatily. “I better get to resting up then.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No, not yet. I’m too tired to make myself something. And I didn’t eat too much last night because I was too excited for our date tonight.”
“Well I was thinking about that and figured, why do we have to cancel?”
I paused. “Huh?”
“I mean, I’ve been looking forward to it too.”
I moaned. “Sorry.”
“You better be.” We both laughed. “Which is why I’m bringing the date to you.”
I hesitated just in case I was hearing things, but there was a rather large lull that I was forced to break. “Say what?”
A knock sounded on my door and I lifted the 8-ton blanket. “Are you seriously here?”
“Yup. And I come bearing gifts.”
I started to panic. I wouldn’t say I was entirely a neat freak, but on my sick days my dwellings tended to look like a wild habitat. Clothes were strewn everywhere, opened food packets and cutlery covered nearly every table top, and towels were all over the bathroom floor. It was a sty and nothing a pig would be proud of, just saying. So lucky me, the guy I’m seeing is going to be seeing my apartment the one time I haven’t prepared for it. On a day where I look as shit as my apartment too.
“I didn’t exactly prepare for this, Michael,” I blushed, trying to fix my frizzy hair in the entryway mirror.
“Just open the door. I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
I hung up and did as he said, pressing my head up against the door as I leaned into it. “Hey,” I greeted, sleepily.
“I know,” I looked down.
“Who’s looking after you?”
I eyed the plastic and paper bags he was carrying. “You apparently.”
“I really wasn’t kidding when I said I was coming bearing gifts.” He grinned. I smiled. “Arrrrre you going to let me in?”
“My apartment is a little messy.”
He shrugged. “I’m a guy with a crazy sister and a deeply dysfunctional family. I think I can handle it.”
“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He made a beeline for the kitchen and placed the bags on top before turning around and scanning the apartment. He looked at me and smiled. “I won’t say it.”
“Oh my God,” I hid my face into my hands.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Nothing I can’t handle, remember?”
I nodded. “So what did you get?”
“Oh, a secret recipe for homemade soup. Plus chicken soup I picked up to hold you over until the cooking and cleaning is finished.”
I widened my eyes and it felt like it took all of my energy. “No way.”
“Cooking and cleaning? You’re not my personal maid.”
He laughed. “Oh come on.”
“No, this is so embarrassing,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “It’s just…I didn’t…I wasn’t…”
“Hey,” he walked towards me, “shut up okay. Fucking relax. I want to take care of you.”
I eyed speculatively. “Why? I don’t get it. Why?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Don’t do that.”
He laughed. “Okay, okay. Aww you look so cute when you’re all pissy and dishevelled.”
I weakly shoved him and he barely nudged. “Shut up.”
“Come on, let me take care of you. I swear you’ll start feeling better once you have two bowls of soup. Lots and lots of lemon. The whole shebang.”
“Mmmm…” I moaned. “Okay. It seems I have no choice,” I said, jokingly.
“Good,” I nodded.
He gently brushed his fingers across my cheek. “I wish I could kiss you right now.” I smiled, about to gush and turn into a puddle of mush. “Alright, go rest with the bought soup and then go to sleep. I’ll wake you when the cooking is finished.”
***Can anyone guess the Alice in Wonderland reference? Soul xo***