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I was absolutely frightened out of my wits when Michael invited me over to his place for dinner about two weeks later. I didn’t really know what to expect. We hadn’t really spoken since he had called me after he moved in to his new place, but I guessed he was busy. I had a lot of time to sort of ponder my feelings for him, and I convinced myself that as long as I was really careful, nothing had to escalate.

 

The things that he had said to me sounded so true, I couldn’t believe how easy it was for him to penetrate my heart. It was a bittersweet feeling. It was a long time since I had taken anyone’s words quite as seriously as his. I wanted him to be genuine so much, but there was a bigger part of me telling me that it was all a farce, to step back and remain vigilant. Although, that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy his company—or at least that’s what I told myself.

 

I arrived to his place around 6pm. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. I guessed I would be walking in to some breathtaking mansion that was given the title of apartment very loosely. It wasn’t all as special as I had expected it to be. He lived in a secure building where I needed to buzz his apartment in order to be let through the security gate. Understandably so.

 

Michael invited me in. For once, I was kind of impressed with what he was wearing. He was wearing a pair of black pants and an untucked white button down shirt. The first few buttons were undone and under it he wore a white wife beater. I knew if anyone else tried to pull of that type of attire they’d look like a fool, but Michael truly looked striking in it. His cologne was a little overpowering, but I’d noticed that the last time I seen him. I didn’t mind too much, at least he had made the effort to smell good.

 

But damn, skippy, did you have to singe the hairs in my nose?

 

He looked nice and casual which assured me that he was true to his word, he expected nothing from me and this sure wasn’t a date. I wore casual clothes too, just a plain white off-the-shoulder top and green flowing skirt that came to my ankles. I toted a jacket incase it became cold later. He ushered me inside of his apartment and closed the door behind us.

 

“Come on in.” He smiled.

 

I looked around. It was beautiful and immaculately clean. It was pretty big, but not as massive as I had some how come to expect.

 

“Hi, Michael.” I smiled shyly. He took my jacket from me immediately and hung it up on a coat rack behind the door. “That’s a nice cologne you’ve got.” I complimented him. But must you fucking marinate yourself in it?

 

“Thanks.” He replied. His hair was slicked back as usual with a ton of product.

 

As we walked through the foyer we met with a huge marble spiral staircase that was to take us upstairs if we were headed that way. Lined on the walls were photographs of his family and friends, mostly children. I felt a little scared to breathe, afraid that I would leave a mark on something.

 

“You’re place is beautiful.” I told him, looking at the photos, probably in awe. He had beautiful neices and nephews. I recognized some pictures with his brothers and sisters and of course his parents.

 

“Thank you…” He said, seemingly proud of his new place. He pointed to a photo of himself with a little boy on the wall, “This is my nephew Randall, it’s his birthday today and I just got off the phone with him. He turned four.” He informed me happily.

 

I smiled, “Wow! He’s so adorable. Look at his little grin!” Michael shared my enthusiasm. He named off other various relatives in the photos until we came to one of his father and himself that looked fairly recent. I hadn’t seen his father much, but the resemblance to the rest of the family was too strong to ignore. “That’s you and your father right?” I asked.

 

“Yeah.” Michael replied, not even looking up, “Hey, come through here…” He put a light hand on my back and guided me down through a doorway that took us to an equally immaculate looking kitchen and dining area. Every appliance was stainless steel, and it was very minimal. Everything was so neat, the kitchen looked almost bare. There was a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter top and a juicer right by it, but that was about all.

 

I smiled to myself, wondering if he was actually going to cook, or if he was just going to order food and make it look like he had cooked. As if reading my thoughts, Michael chimed in.

 

“I was going to cook for us… but I was a bit scared that it wouldn’t work out.” He blushed, “I’m not that elaborate in the kitchen.”

 

I gave a laugh, “Don’t feel bad, I’m not the greatest cook either.”

 

“Well I figured we could order out or something.” I nodded in agreement. He showed me around the rest of his place and we went upstairs, climbing the beautiful marble staircase to retreat to his living room.

 

To be honest, I was a little bit intimidated. There was an air of awkwardness between us that I desperately wanted to pass. “So how have you been?” I asked him, hoping that the air of silence would leave with the awkwardness.

 

“I’m very good actually. I’ve just lined up to go to London to do a little bit of promotion at the end of the month.” He informed me. He seemed excited about it, “I can’t wait to go to London, I love it there!”

 

I smiled. I’d only ever been to New York and Florida and a couple of other cities in California. I had never actually traveled abroad. It was something that I would have loved the chance to do. “Fantastic.” I  remarked.  “I’ll bet you have a lot of fans there.” I don’t know why I said that, I just did. Of course he had lots of fans there, why else would he go?

 

“I do.” He nodded, “And they’re the most loyal ones, you know? But also the most nuts.” He gave a crazy grin that quite frankly made me feel a little bit weak in the stomach.

 

I laughed, “Well I’m sure you’ll have a good time while you’re over there.”

 

He nodded, agreeing with me. “So what about you, what did you do today?” He wanted to know as I sank back in to a peach colored couch, finally feeling myself relax just a little. I was sitting opposing him. I just shrugged. “Not so much, I didn’t have to work, so I went to visit my Dad for a little while…”

 

“Oh cool.” He smiled faintly. “You get along well with him, right?” He questioned me. I nodded and smiled, thinking of how my Dad and I had both sat down with a cup of coffee and held a deep and meaningful conversation earlier in the afternoon.

 

“My Dad and Mom are the closest people in my life.” Basically the only people in my life, I wanted to add.

 

“Are they still together?”

 

I shook my head, “No… they divorced when I was about 8 or so, I suppose.” I replied, giving a little shrug. I thought about how hostile they were toward each other and how they used to play piggy-in-the-middle with me until I had my car accident only a couple short years ago now. My parents got along amazingly now, and even spent time with one another without my company. Sometimes I held a little bit of hope for them to get back together, but I knew it probably wouldn’t happen, however, I was extremely content with their relationship. “They get along really well, though. They’re good friends.” I added, just in case he had any further questions.

 

“That must be nice.” He smiled. I nodded, not really sure of what else to add to it. I knew his parents were still together, and I wondered what sort of relationship that he had with them, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get in too deep with him just yet.

 

“So can I get you a drink or would you like to order food or something?” He asked me. I knew he felt a bit of the discomfort that I was feeling too, and he was trying to fill it.

 

“A drink would be great.” I agreed. I watched him get up. He had another mini-kitchenette upstairs, I guess it saved him the time of going down. He offered me a choice of fruit juice or soda. I took the fruit juice. I noticed his refrigerator was quite bare. I knew if I had his kind of money my food would be flowing out. I guess he had to make sure he didn’t become as fat as I aspired to be with all food that money could buy.

 

He pulled out a bunch of fast food services from a drawer and laid them out on to the counter top. I took a seat on the stool just before it. “What do you feel like eating?” He asked me.

 

“I’m not really very fussy.” I replied. It was true, I didn’t mind. I was always happy to try new things. My taste buds were broad. “You choose.”

 

Michael gave a shrug as he leafed through the menus and looked at me, obviously feeling rude being the one who made the decisions. “Would you prefer to have Chinese or Mexican?” He asked, picking two. I looooved Mexican, but I knew it was one of those kinds of foods that I ended up wearing as much as I ate. On the other hand, as much as I loved Chinese, it didn’t set well in my stomach.

 

“Hmm…Mexican.”

 

Michael smiled with satisfaction and I could tell that it was what he wanted to eat as well. “Okay. Well I’m definitely having Enchiladas… what do you like?” he asked, holding the menu for me to take. I scoured it quickly and made my decision. “Mmm, beef Enchilada sounds fantastic.”

 

“Do you want to order now, or wait for a bit?” He asked, refilling my cup of juice after I had drank at least half of the cup. He topped up his own and put the juice carton back in the fridge and grabbed a stool from the counter and pulled it around to the other side so that we sat across from each other on separate sides of the breakfast bar.

 

I shrugged again, “I don’t mind. I’m not starving.”

 

“Ok we’ll wait.” Michael decided for us. We sat for a few moments in silence. We were less than a meter apart. I studied his facial features shamelessly, he was reasonably clean-shaven but his face was lined with soft looking facial hair. He didn’t care about covering up his skin discoloration what so ever, which made me feel good. I was glad that he was comfortable about it in front of me. His eyes were just so soulful. They were always filled with every kind of emotion imaginable. It was easy to read his feelings mostly by looking in to his eyes, but also, they were the kind of eyes that made me want to look away whenever they met mine.

 

I had a fear of people seeing in to my soul, as if I showed too much pain, or even a glimpse of what I had been through. My Dad once told me that my eyes were the kind that told stories – and that’s how I thought of Michael’s. I didn’t want anyone to view me like that, though. I tried my best to show nothing, and mostly it worked.

 

I could feel his eyes checking me out, trying to pick up on what I was thinking about, they bore in to me like hot lasers. I finally made eye contact briefly. I always looked between his eyes to his forehead when talking to him, to avoid showing too much to him. Sometimes I found myself slipping in to his mesmerizing gaze. “Do you consider yourself to be shy?” he wondered randomly.

 

I knew he had asked it because I had hardly spoken a word since I arrived. I shrugged, thinking about it. “I guess I am a bit, what do you think?” I wanted to know his opinion.

 

“I don’t think you’re shy.” He answered, “I think… that you’re so guarded that you’re very careful of what you say and keep it all to a very polite minimum.”

 

I almost laughed in disbelief, and I would have if only I didn’t want him to see how surprised I was that he had got me down to such a tee. Again, doing exactly what he had just accused me of. The irony was pretty funny. “Maybe you’re a little bit right.”

 

Michael smirked, “I’m always right.” He knew that he was spot on, no one needed to confirm it. He took a sip of his juice and moved the glass around on the counter, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. “I’m shy.” He informed me, not looking up. “I mean… I know I probably don’t seem it, but I’m real shy…”

 

“I can see that you would be.” I answered honestly. For some reason, maybe for the reasons that he had explained to me, he was forthcoming with me. “I’d expect someone who does what you do, to be a little bit more outgoing than you seem to be…” I supplied thoughtfully.

 

It was his turn to shrug. He looked up, and I let his eyes penetrate mine. “I can be outgoing.” He said as if he were pondering it himself for the very first time. “But… I don’t really like egotistical people, and there’s a lot of that in my industry…” He paused as if trying to select the right words to express himself. “I guess that I feel like I’m just a bit different and the reality is that I’m a whole lot more boring than people expect me to be.”

 

“I don’t think you’re boring.” I told him, and not just to make him feel better, but because I actually meant it as well. “I don’t think you being different makes you shy, I think you’ve just spent a lot of your life being so public, that your private time needs to remain exactly that. And maybe you feel as though you share enough with people, and there’s some of you that you want to save for just you.”

 

He was smiling at me, broadly. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He replied. Damn, he was grinning, showing me those beautiful pearly whites. He looked gorgeous and I wasn’t afraid to admit that.

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