A Spring-Summer Connection #3

Intrigued yet? When I left the story last, I was sitting crushed into the side of my landlord, dizzyingly and uncomprehendingly experiencing many emotions. He was a fit bloke, in that he worked out and he was drop dead gorgeous. Think Gerard Butler back in the day.

(Approximately 30 minutes has gone past, as I went to helpfully link to a suitable picture, and got sidetracked. Also, no pictures. You’re welcome.)

After my short circuited brain came back on track, I hotfooted it upstairs, ignoring the pleas of my friend. Since this was the same friend who practically dissolved into a puddle when she so much as caught sight of my landlord, I couldn’t very well share my mixed up state of mind. Five minutes after we came up, so did he, presumably leaving his friends to their ahem devices.

The next morning, I rose early, thanks to fitful night of contemplation. My friend was fast asleep. I tiptoed out of the room, and went downstairs to get some water. My landlord was also up, having been awoken by his departing friends. One of them was still passed out on the sofa, but most of them had cleared off.

We met up in the kitchen, and after a bit of awkwardness, chatted about the previous night. He then confessed to not knowing how someone as innocent as I was would deal with this sort of party. He went on to express his sense of responsibility for me, and that this was not the sort of thing he enjoyed. I, for my part, assured him that I was less scarred and more amused, and that I hadn’t felt scared for a moment.

He told me then that he cared about me, and what happened to me. That he felt very responsible for me, claiming that it was because I was under his roof. I took this heartfelt conversation purely at face value, and I didn’t read anything else into it. I factored tiredness and surprise into my reaction of the previous night. We were back on an even keel once more.

The status quo continued for some time. In time, my friend and I drifted apart due to differences. My landlord and I became closer and closer. We stayed up nights talking, heading to bed in the wee hours of the morning. Our days fell into a familiar pattern of spending the days apart and nights in the sitting room.

One evening, we were chatting and we both started feeling peckish. There was nothing in the fridge to eat, so we decided to walk down to the nearest petrol station for some munchies. I went upstairs and came back down wearing a sweater. He took one look at me and went back into the closet to get a second coat.

I protested about wearing what was clearly a man’s coat. He argued that it was very chilly outside, and he wouldn’t take me if I didn’t wear it. When I continued to murmur, he shut me up by saying that people would think it was my boyfriend’s coat, so I was keep it on and lump it. I was so stunned by that remark, I desisted from arguing any further.

Life continued on, and he did go out quite a bit with his friends, but never brought anyone back home with him again. On weekend nights, I watched movies, and fell asleep on the sofa. He used to come home, wake me up, and we would chat again.

Then one night, he was a little tipsier than usual. I had fallen asleep on the sofa again, so I woke up to him prodding me insistently. I woke up to find him very close to me. I think my heart stopped for a moment, and I think he read fear on my face.

I wasn’t afraid of him or what would have happened then, but I was taken aback with the situation. I desperately wanted him to make a move, but he didn’t. And that’s the moment I realised that I had a ginormous crush on this man. A man, I might add, that was a good 12 years older.

Um, what exactly was my next move?


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