Page 57 of Compassion

Just hearing the nickname has my entire frame melting.

“It’s sounding like that scene fromChicka Chicka Boom Boomwhere they all fall out of the tree except in high-def.” He folds his arms across his white t-shirt covered chest. “And in our kitchen.” His wince is followed instantly by a correction. “Your kitchen.”

“No, I likeourkitchen better.” The lower of his jaw in surprise has me abandoning the well thought out speech I had prepared for something more natural. “Because it’s accurate. This isourkitchen, Archer. This is wherewecook. Together. Separately. This is wherewehave coffee in the morning or wine at night or cookies on Saturday after the gym.”

His lips press together firmly rather than arguing.

“And this isourhome. It’s where we read and talk and spend so much time together but…”

The word at the end of the statement has him slightly leaning forward.

Brow creased.

Eyes overran with fear.

“But I want us to spend time togethernotat home.”

Confusion causes him to quietly counter. “We do.”

“I mean, yeah, we…technicallydo. We go to the gym. And Harry’s. And the grocery store. And the drive through of Loca Mocha Casabloca. And today we’ve got that appointment at the DMV to finally get your license, oh and we’re also gonna swing by the cellphone store to get you a phone – yes, I just decided that this morning, and no you can’t talk me out of it – but what I’m trying to say is that I want us to go out and do other things like a normal…” My mouth slams itself shut before the wrong words can spring free.

Dad said love and I told him that was swallowing the whole elephant yet here I am calling us a couple – which we are clearly not – instead of asking for a real date. Isn’t that me still basically deep throating my problem instead of just completing the first task?!

Rather than let me off the hook, Archer takes a single step at the same time he cautiously pushes for the answer. “A normal what, Jaye?”

I can’t say it.

Okay, I can, but I clearly shouldn’t.

Won’t.

Nope.

His eyebrows lift in a silent command for a response prompting me to blurt in a frazzle, “Couple!”

There’s no flinching over the increased volume.

“And I knowtechnicallywe’re not officially a couple, but we do almost everything together like one. And the parts wedon’tdo, God, Iwantus to do. The dating-”

“You wanna go on a date with me?”

“Dates.” The franticness of my speech remains. “All of them.To the movies. To the park. Bowling. Dancing. Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe indoor skydiving?” Tossing my hands in the air is attached to a dramatic shrug. “Whatever it iswewanna do for dates!

“Jaye-”

“And I want us to hold hands. And I want you to put your arm around me like you want it there or need it there or have been thinking about it being there for as long as I have. And I want you to touch me. And I want you to kiss me. And I want you to touch me againin other ways.”

This time his face noticeably flushes on a slow lick of the lips.

“I like you, Archer,” I loudly confess over the thrumming in my ears. “Yes, I love that we’re friends – and I never wanna lose that – but I’m fucking tired of pretending that it’s notyouI wish I was going to bed with every night. And that it’s notyouI wish was texting me about our plans for the night. And that it’s notyouI wish was sitting across from me at some fancy smacy wine place talking about how Harmony read her first book to me all by herself-”

“Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?”

“Ohmygod, you remember?!”

The bashful beam I was thinking about earlier makes an unexpected appearance. “Of course, I remember, sweetheart. I remember everything that matters to you. You’re my-” His mouth abruptly makes the same motion mine made earlier.

Excitement and hope push my bare feet across the floor a couple steps in desperation to eventually close the gap between us. “You’re what, Archer?”

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