My Lover or My Enemy?

The Vase

"Not the right time" I tell him, and he nods. An apology is halfway out of his mouth when I cut him off, joking, "That's more of a fifth date question"

"Does that mean I'm a fifth of a way to an answer?" He asks.

I smile bash fully at him, unsure of how to answer. There's a silence that eases its way in to the room, still and natural. Its fine, until it's not, and it's suffocating, the feeling of silence choking me and wrapping around me. Panic strikes me and I fight for something to say, some noise to make other than the guttural scream that fights its way up my throat.

"I'm sorry" I say. "I just" I'm struggling to keep my voice even. "I can't. I really can't talk about this."

"Okay" he says, and the roles are switched, because now it is the calm affection in his voice that is the balm. I turn slightly away from him, and my breathing starts to even.

"Thanks for the homeschooling offer" I tell him, "but I've already signed up for this semesters classes, and I've got a scholarship, so money isn't an issue"

"What College do you go to?" He asks.

"Johns Hopkins University. I enrolled in their 'Center for Talented Youth' program when I was five, and took a lot of courses. All of my work gave me a four year scholarship, meaning money can go elsewhere. It's a good deal" I'm babbling now, making a verbal road away from the topic of my parents, trying desperately to forget the pity that had contorted Dannys expression earlier.

"Congratulations" he tells me. "What year are you in?"

"Freshman."

"I'm a senior in High School" he comments.

"We're actually the same age" I tell him.

"How come?" His eyebrows draw together, but the corners of his mouth tug up.

I shrug. "Skipped a grade."

"That's good" his dimples are deeply imbedded in to his cheeks, and I breath a sigh of relief at the fact that any trace of pity is gone from his face.

"And why is that?" I ask conversationally, finally relaxing and leaning back against the headboard.

He blushes, a delicate shade of pink crawling up from his shirt collar and adorning his cheeks. I smirk at that, faintly. "I just-" he pauses, twisting and bunching the fabric clutched in his fingers. "I'd like to get to know you better"

I smile widely, sitting up slightly to grab on to his arm. "Trust me" I tell him. "I wouldn't let a thing like a one year age gap get in the way of knowing you"

He smiles too, and I reach up to gently poke my finger in to his dimple. It's a playful action, albeit a courageous one, and I wonder where this newfound confidence has come from.

He smiles wider, a small, choked giggle escaping him, and reaches up to poke my dimple, too. "Boop" he says, still giggling.

I shake my head lightly at the rediculousness of the situation, and go to poke the other dimple swiftly.
He reaches to return the favor, but I dodge swiftly, cackling. "You'll never catch me!"

He leans closer to me, arm waving wildly, trying to reach my dimpled cheeks. I lean away and dodge again, then pull myself towards him, teasing and pulling away at the last minute. Our giggles are coming out more like joyful shrieks now, barely echoing accross the walls of my cramped apartment.

Several minutes later, we're both out of breath from the game, and he finally puts his hands up in surrender.

"Fine!" He admonishes, smiling with a truly happy look in his eye, hair tousled nearly beyond repair. It twists my heart in a way I can't begin to understand. "Consider me defeated!"