Save My Day (boyxboy)

14 Mutual Feelings

“So the cat’s out of the bag,” Topher states as we watch ourselves on Brikk’s show later that night from my bed. He leans closer to me to steal some Lo Mein from my carton with his chop sticks.

“What’s wrong with the rice you have?” I point to the container in his hand with my own Chinese utensils.

He shakes his head as he sticks the noodles in his mouth, “Nothing, your Lo Mein smelled awesome.”

Rolling my eyes, I steal a piece of his Orange Chicken. Although, I don’t think it’s really stealing because when he sees me moving toward it, he angles the plastic container so it’s easier for me to grab.

“What do you think I should say when they ask at my interview in the morning?” he asks a few minutes later as the commercials come on.

I shrug as I set my food down on the table next to my bed then lean back against my headboard, “Suppose it doesn’t matter. The whole world either knows at this point or will very soon.”

“We’re really doing this?” he puts his dinner on the table near his side of the bed and lies down on his side to face me.

I chuckle, looking down at him, “You think it’s too late to say ‘just kidding’?”

“Yep,” he turns to his back to look at the television. He points up, “Especially after that.”

I look up to see our first dance. Oddly, I don’t look like me. Mainly because I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself that happy or sincere.

It’s a little mesmerizing. Looking at it from a spectator’s point of view, I can see why everyone has mistaken us for being in love. The two people on the screen staring at each other, exchanging kisses and whispering conversations, look to be the picture of love as Hollywood sells it.

“Do you believe in love yet?” my husband asks from beside me. I look over to see him sitting up and leaning on his arm toward me. He gestures the hand that he’s not leaning on toward the screen, “It’s written all over us. I know you’re thinking that’s what media wants us to think, but you were there. You were the one I was holding onto. You weren’t acting and neither was I. You can’t fake that.”

“I don’t know what to think,” I tell him honestly as I cast my eyes down to my comforter. “It’s not easy for me to just accept.”

“Why not?” he sounds agitated. He sits up pointing to the screen, “You were there. That’s you. That’s not something that a publicist set up. You felt that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell him as I stand to collect the uneaten portions of our meal.

He watches me grab my food and walk to his side of the bed, “I’m not letting you run away from this forever.”

“I’m not running away,” I confirm as I walk out of the room toward the kitchen.

“You’re kidding, right?” he laughs without humor. “You are literally running away - the very definition.”

I didn’t answer him as I put the leftovers in my refrigerator, “Are you staying the night?”

“You’re really going to avoid the subject?”

“I don’t know where your interview is in the morning, but I’m closer to the city. I figured it’s probably easier to leave from here,” I enter my room again and lay down next to him. “You can use my car.”

He shakes his head, “Yea, I’m staying here. We should probably live together at this point anyway. You want to live in my apartment or yours?”