... you go and do something like that to throw me off.

"Come here" he said, reaching an arm in my direction. I swivel around in my chair and smile, but I hesitate. I'm always hesitating it seems. His hand waits for me to make up my mind and my mind waits for a sign. Something to ease all those second thoughts and make me feel ok about what I want. "Come here" he says again. And I get up, but stop and drop to my knees at the edge of the bed.

These are the moments that make me believe I shouldn't. You never did make up your mind about me before, so I learned not to read your signs. I'm always just waiting. Waiting for anything.

"Please tell me something! I need to know something. Anything!" It's more a plea with myself. And with such desperation in my voice, I can hardly believe these words are coming out of my mouth.
"Well, I think you're amazing." He's so calm. Maybe that's his way, maybe it's the gin and tonics.
"Anything else?"
He stands and smiles at me with those squinting eyes. How he can soften my demeanor with a look even now, I'll never know. "Well, I'm fucked up. You know I'm fucked, right?"

As if it's some excuse for everything that hasn't happened.

"I don't really know what's going to happen."
"Well what do you hope will happen?"
"Hoping and knowing are very different."

They are. I never really know, and I hold back from hoping. My hopes have gotten me hurt more than once before.