Lennox. Me. & Apartment C.

017.

After class the following day, I attempted to exercise. I ran for a couple miles and made my way back to the apartment. I had my headphones in and was looking down at my phone when I entered. I went straight to the kitchen to wash my hands and grab a bottle of water.

Lennox walked into the apartment soon after me. He has a gray hoodie on over a black shirt with dark-washed jean and black Converse. This was a good casual look on him. It was simple but he looked effortlessly good. He slid the sleeves of his hood up and stood in front of the counter with his back towards the living room, leaning on it. His eyes eyebrows were raised and I could tell he was trying to get me attention.

"Hey," I started, as I pulled out my earphones and wrapped them around my phone.

"Hey, so I was thinking of mentioning it to my mom that you were interested in coming home with me for Thanksgiving. If you still are... interested, I mean?"

"Uh," I started as I looked up at the sky and was silent for a moment.

"What are you thinking?" Lennox asked.

At first, I was taken aback. No on had ever asked me that before: what are you thinking? Normally, it was just an Are-you-ok? Which was fine. I was usually ok. Most people only cared about the bare minimum— if I was ok— not about the extra stuff of what was going on in my head.

Not only that but Lennox looked at me expectantly. He wanted an answer, not a dismissive 'Nothing.' His eyes were peering into my soul and he was genuinely interested.

I think I liked that. I think I liked that a lot.

"Oh?" I started. "Uh, I was just thinking about Mom. If I'm gone and Dad is gone, then she'd be alone for the holiday and I don't want to do that to her.

"Oh," Lennox responded.

"Let me talk to my mom tonight and see what she has planned to do," I answered.  "Anyway, what's been going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" My roommate countered

"You've been staying home more. It feels like I haven't seen you in street clothes in forever— which you look good, by the way. You said last night you haven't been bringing girls home, which I'm not advocating you do." I babbled looking down at the counter before licking my lips to look up at him. I needed lip balm. "I'm just worried about you. Are you depressed or is it your diabetes?"

Lennox chuckled a little and moved around the counter. I stayed put while his right hand went around my waist and pulled me into his side. "I'm fine," he said, planting a kiss on the side of my temple before he went to the fridge.

Something told me to let it go. I should've let it go— just let it be.

"See—," I started. "You say that and then you kiss me and you don't usually do that, so this is why I think something is wrong."

Lennox pulled a Go-gurt out of the fridge and put it in his mouth. He shrugged and swallowed some of the yogurt.

"Ok, so I'll kiss you more often." He said nonchalantly.

"Ok, no, I'm not saying that."

"Ok, so I won't kiss you at all."

"I'm not saying that either!" I answered defensively.

Lennox smirked and raised an eyebrow as he brushed past me. "So, what're you saying?" He was on the other side of the counter again. A smug smirk was threatening to break across his face. It was nearly uncontainable.