“What ya thinkin’ ‘bout?” Mike asked, leaning against the door with a tray in hand.
“You.”
“I hope so. From the look on your face, you like whatever you were thinking about.”
“Maybe I do; maybe I don’t.” I tried not to grin.
He rested the tray on the foot of the bed and his homely smile set my heart racing like—like I was the only girl in the world.
“Where are you, right now?” he said softly.
I came back to my own head, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. Did I faze out again?”
“Uh, yeah,” he scoffed. “Just a bit.”
“Sorry.”
“What were you thinking?”
I hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t say.”
Mike wiped his hand across his mouth, then laughed once; a short, breathy laugh. “Okay, well, that’s a good sign, right?”
I nodded, half shrugging.
“But…” He patted my leg through the covers. “You don’t think straight when you’re hungry. So, I'm not gonna read into that too deeply.”
“What, you think I'm delusional?”
“God, I hope not,” he said in a breath, sitting down beside me.
I bit my lip. He knew too well what I’d been thinking—he didn't need to be like David to be in my head, which was as comforting as it was…awkward.
“Here.” He passed me a plate and I swapped my lip for toast; the peanut butter swirled around on my tongue with the jelly at the prefect consistency; it didn’t even stick to the roof of my mouth.
“Mmm. You’ve always been the best at making toast.”
“Must be the chef in me,” he joked.
“So, if the chef in you makes good toast, what can the cop in you do?” Oh, that was suggestive, Ara.
“I could arrest you? For dangerously good looks.”
I choked on the toast for a second, nearly losing it out my nose. “That’s the worst joke I’ve heard in ages.”
Mike chuckled. “So, I’m still king, then—of bad jokes?”
“Right? I forgot about that,” I mused. “No one here gets it. They think you’re just trying to be funny and not succeeding.”
“Don’t worry. I get ya.” His teeth showed with his gentle smile.
“You always did. So—if you’re king, I’m queen, then?”
“Pardon the bad joke again, but...” He leaned forward and stroked my cheek in a melodramatic fashion. “You’ve always been my queen.”
The rumble in the back of my throat couldn’t decide if it was laughter or a giant scoff. “Yeah, that was a pretty terrible joke.”
“Maybe I wasn’t joking,” he said suggestively.
“What does that mean?”
“I mean—”
“Wait.” I sat up a little further and reluctantly put the yummy toast down as a full speed rant shot off from the starting line. “Don’t bother saying it. I already know but, Mike, you keep playing this game with me—saying you’re in love with me, but you touch me and pull away, or you say things to my dad that make me think I’m imagining all this, and when we’re alone, you—it’s like you pretend we’re together and then remind yourself that we’re not. Why? Why do you do that if you want me? Why do you keep confusing me, Mike? I can’t do this. I can’t be the girl that takes charge and makes the first move. I’ll never be that girl. If you want me, you have to make it clearer than this. You have to be consistent.”
“Ara?” Mike frowned, surprised. “Where’s this coming from, baby? What’s wrong?”
“This is what’s wrong. Us,” I yelled and tried to stand, but he took my hand and pulled me back down, grinning.
“Are you saying that...you love me?”
“You know I do—otherwise I would’ve told you already that I don’t.” I lowered my head.
“Holy shit.” He sat back, his lips parting as he stared at nothing. “Shit. You’re serious?”
“You thought otherwise?”
“I…” He looked at me then, rubbing his brow. “I wasn’t sure anymore, Ara. I thought maybe—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, but…I just can’t believe it. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that. I just don’t even know what…I just…”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Question?”
“Why did you tell my dad you don’t want me?”
“Baby, I—I never said anything to your dad about not wanting you. What’re you—when was this?”
“The other day, when you said that thing about going home…alone. I don’t do long distance relationships, Mike—they don’t work.” Even though I’d love David from afar for the rest of my life.
“Ara, I didn’t mean that. I was...” He looked frustrated. “As if I was going to tell your dad I’d asked you to come home with me. He’d have pulled out his shotgun right then.”
My eyes narrowed with an insistent smile. “True. I suppose.”
“Ara, I want you. You know that. I…I want nothing more than for you to come home with me.” He looked at me for a long moment. “And…you know I’d look after you, right?”
He would. He’d take very good care of me; love me, protect me, and I’d never want for anything. “I know,” I said softly.
“Then…come with me.” He took my hand, his gentle touch littered with hope. “You could finish school, go to uni—be a teacher—like you always planned?”
“Mike?”
“Please. Don’t say anything now. Not if you’re going to say no. Just—” He paused, releasing a really deep, tense breath, then looked away—far away to where his thoughts were on the other side of the window. “Whatever you choose? I already decided I can’t go back—not without you.” A warm grin lit his face then. “If you stay, I stay.”
The little fold between my brows tightened. “What about your career?”
“Ara, you’re the love of my life.” He took both my hands. “What would my career mean to me if I didn't have you? God, I only joined because I thought I’d lost you.”
“Lost me?”
He sighed and looked down; sad Mike. “When you moved away—when you refused to even speak to me—I figured you hated me. And…I don't know, I guess I decided that if I didn't have you to look after, I’d be a perfect candidate to risk my own life, because it’d be worth nothing.”