Stare.

You are taller than me and you have very soft hands. I tell you this, but I don't think you understand. You have brown eyes and your pupils are quite reactive. I watch them dilate and find it both scary and fascinating.

We walked home and we held hands. I always worried that our hands might not reach because you are taller than me. This always made me nervous. But our hands reach and I am glad of this.

You told me that your housemates worry that I am using you. I got hot and red and I did not know what to say. I thought for a moment it was true because you always pick me up in your car and I never walk. This made me anxious. Maybe I should walk more. And not stay at your house so much. And that we shouldn't stay in bed all day. And that I should believe you when you say nice things. And that I should stop saying mean things. And that I should offer you juice instead of water. And I shouldn't let you buy me lunch. And I should give you more of the duvet. And that maybe you want to sleep next to the wall and not on the edge. And that I shouldn't respond to your questions with 'nothing'. I had all these thoughts in a moment.

Then you told me you were joking. And I didn't laugh. You like to tell lies to see if people will believe them. But you call them jokes, and sometimes I don't understand. I took off my shoes. And went to your room. And did not wait for you.

I let you kiss me and say sorry. But I didn't forgive you until you looked sorry.