He seemed to accept this, but as we packed up the rest of my worldly belongings, I could feel him watching me carefully.
After he dropped me back off in my mostly-empty apartment, I walked through the suddenly unfamiliar rooms in silence for a while before collapsing on my bed. It was one of the few things that didn’t need to come with me - of course.
But if he thought I was actually going to sleep in his bed with him after yesterday, he was crazy. I wasn’t sure if that had ever been in the cards. I’d thought about it, of course - several times, and in exquisite detail - but unless I wanted it to end like yesterday had, it was obviously best if we never let ourselves get that close.
When I answered the door, he didn’t even look up. He walked in silently, picked up a box, and walked back out again.
Okay. So that’s how it was going to be.
On the last trip, I followed him out to the U-Haul and climbed into the passenger seat. He glanced at me briefly, but didn’t say a word. I figured I might as well start unpacking and settling in.
It was a bit of a shock to see his apartment with my boxes scattered all over it. It was no longer exactly a candidate for an interior decorating magazine. He’d left most of the stuff on the main floor, but I noticed some of the boxes were up in the loft area.
Might as well rip that Band-Aid off right now.
“Why is my stuff up there?” I pointed.
He looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head.
“You don’t expect me to sleep in your bedroom, do you?” I clarified.
He blinked. “You did read the contract, didn’t you?”
Had that really been in there? Oh, man. I really should have hired a lawyer.
“You’ve seen the bed,” he said, dryly, beginning his trek up the staircase. “It’s a king size. We’ll hardly even have to see each other.”
I briefly considering picking up the vase of bamboo from the entry table and throwing it at his head.
I started digging into the boxes on the main floor. I’d expected my stuff to look dowdy and out of place, but now that I was actually faced with the prospect of unpacking it, I had a crazy urge to throw it all in the garbage and start over. What had I been thinking with some of this shit? Mugs full of pens? A ceramic dog from my trip to England when I was eleven? At the very least, I should put it all into storage. It had no business being here.
I rifled through all the boxes, looking in vain for something that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to bring out. Paperclips? Three boxes of paperclips? Why did I even have these? And two brand new six-packs of sticky notes. What the hell did I think I was, a one-person office supply store?
When Daniel came back downstairs, I was sitting cross-legged on the middle of the floor, surrounded by crumpled-up newspaper. I had ink stains all over my hands, and I was examining an unopened package of multicolored permanent markers.
He sat down next to me, and, miracle of miracles, actually spoke.
“You’ve got yourself a nice collection of office supplies there,” he said.
I nodded.
He didn’t speak for a little while longer, but I was acutely aware of the soft, even sound of his breathing. He was so close, just inches away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “About what happened yesterday.”
“Me too,” I lied.
He picked up a pen and uncapped it, examining the tip like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
“I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand,” he said. “It’s not a very good start for us, is it?”
“Our relationship hasn’t even really started yet,” I said. “Officially.”
“I know. I’m sorry I left. I just figured it was best if I…” he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Maybe it’s better not to talk about it,” he said, finally. “Just know that I’m sorry, and I won’t let it happen again.”
“Sure,” I said. “To change the subject, how do you feel about throwing all of my stuff in a giant bonfire?”
“Seems like a waste of effort,” he replied, smiling. “Should’ve done it before we went to all the trouble of bringing it over here.”
“Before you went to all the trouble, you mean.”
“I was happy to help,” he said. “I mean it.”
“Okay.”
He looked over all of the mess one more time. “You know, if you want an office space, we can convert one of the guest rooms.”
“What would I do there?”
“I don’t know. Whatever you want.”
“Maybe not an office so much as a…studio,” I said. “Some place where I can work on my art.”
“Of course,” said Daniel. “Anything you want.”