We get back to the apartment complex and stand quietly for a moment on the landing. I fidget with my hands, not quite knowing what to say. Shoresy looks at me and smirks.
"What," I ask.
"You're just adorable, you know that? You make me wanna squeeze you tight and say 'My Precious' like in Lord of the Rings."
"You're a fucking nerd," I laugh, my face blushing.
"Don't lie to yourself, you love it."
"It is endearing," I agree.
"Stay with my tonight? The boys are all out."
"I don't know, Shoresy," I hesitate.
"Tell me what's holding ya back." He stares me down, eyes boring into mine.
"I just...I don't want you to be a rebound," I say, sighing. "I was with my ex for three years and I've only been single again for a couple of months. I don't want to start something with you so soon and end up hurting us both."
"I'd let you break my heart over and over again, Ronni," he says. His usually playful voice sounds serious.
"You barely know me."
"I know enough. I know how you make me feel and I think I make you feel the same way."
"I come with a lot of baggage, Shoresy. I need to sort it out before I can give you what you want."
"Then I'll wait until you do," he says defiantly.
"I can't ask you to do that."
"You're not askin'. I'm tellin'." He crosses arms and looks at me.
"You're stubborn as a rock, aren't you?"
"Stubborn as a rock dried in cement," he says. I stare into his eyes, looking for something that will betray his words. I don't find anything, though. I just see determination.
"I need time, Shoresy."
"Take it, but I'm not going anywhere." His expression is serious and I can tell he won't budge on this.
"Thanks for going to dinner with me," I smile up at him. "I'll see you later, Shoresy." I go into my apartment.
________
Shoresy is busy with practice over the next couple of days, so I don't see him. He might just be giving me space, too. Despite telling him that I needed time, I find myself missing his company.
Feeling restless, I decide to work on my painting. I turn music on through my speaker and let it fill the room as I get my paint and brushes ready. I sing along to the song that's playing and begin working.
As with the last time I worked on my painting, time seemed to disappear. I zone in and work tirelessly to bring my vision to life. I'm having particular trouble with a spot and groan, putting my face in my hands. I'm about to scrap the whole fucking canvas when I hear a knock on my door over the music. I throw my shit down on the desk and go to answer the door.
"Coming," I yell. I hurry to unlock it. When it opens, I see Shoresy. "Hey," I say, giving a tired smile.
"Sup, Van Gogh," he asks, chuckling at me.
"What," I ask, wondering why he's laughing.
"Got some paint on your face." He takes his thumb and wipes it over my cheek. I guess I'd gotten paint on me when I was frustrated. "You okay," he asks, sensing my less than pleasant mood.
"Just having trouble with the lighting on the painting I'm working on. I can't fucking get it right." I run my hand through my hair as I sigh.
"Can I see it?" He looks truly curious. I nod and let him in.
