medicine {h.s.}

CHAPTER NINETEEN

april.

Will doesn't want to assume he is invited inside and it's obvious. I can tell by the way that his car is idling in front of the house and the way that he is not rushing me out of the car. Everything is relaxed as we sit here. Almost as though we're in no hurry at all. It's our fourth date and I'm yet to invite him inside. Rationally, I think a large part of my hesitation stems from the secrecy. Aside from Harry, none of my roommates know about my relationship with Will.

I don't think I'm consciously hiding my relationship from them; it just hasn't come up yet and I don't want this to be how they find out. It's not this big secret where I'm conspiring against them and I'm withholding information for my own benefit or their own. I think it just boils down to my happiness. Right now, my situation in life makes me happy. I'm happy with the way things are: the chivalry, the wooing. I don't want it to stop. I don't want him to get comfortable with me in that way that people do, and I don't want him to stop trying to impress me. Maybe it's selfish but I imagine that this is the fun part of dating. Good things might happen in our lives in the future and we might celebrate them together, but after this initial stage of dating I fully believe that things go downhill. No one has ever proven otherwise for me.

He'd taken me to a hibachi restaurant tonight. It was wonderful and secluded and we couldn't take our eyes off each other for the whole meal. His hand was always itching to be wrapped around mine and he offered me his coat when I shivered inadvertently in the restaurant. Things are so simple and easy with him in this way that I am absolutely addicted to. He's absolutely enamored with me and I have to admit I'm not far behind. Which is why I know I can't invite him in tonight.

Even if I haven't told him this, I think he knows it. In the driver's seat of the car he turned to face me. His arm is crooked and rested on the steering wheel as he studies me intently. Illuminated solely through the street lights lining the neighborhood sidewalks he looks beautiful. There is an angelic glow around him and I think he's the only person ever to be naturally flattered in the yellowy glow of the street lamps.

I'm sucked in, and we both know it. His hazel eyes have the ability to draw these lines around me and to pull me in to him in this way that I don't stand a chance against. Separation must be done immediately or not at all. He's quick sand, my own impossibility. When I look at him I'm no longer just myself, I am another person entirely that is so tangled in with him that I don't even know where one starts and the other stops; nor do I want to find out. Letting myself love him is sweet and serendipitous.

But maybe I'm stronger than I know. For when I break free of his spell and lean away from him, it is a feat that I never thought I would have been able to accomplish. "Goodnight, Will." My hand is wrapped around the car door handle. I'm purposely moving slow, trying to give him some cue to stop me before I pull it open. Maybe I'm an addict and he is my own personal drug. Maybe I have no self-control. Whatever it is, I can't ignore the simple patter in my heart when he is quick to take the hint.

"No kiss goodnight?" He pouts; his bottom lip playfully sticking out when I turn back to look at him. Like, really look at him. The kind of gaze that does more than just look absently into his eyes. It's more the kind of gaze where I take in the entirety of his essence. The green shoes that look like they've been worn for the first time tonight. The pressed pants and the nice maroon shirt. He'd rolled the sleeves up about halfway through the night and they've stayed in such a position. He looks good. There's a sort of gratification about knowing it's for me. I see him in these types of clothes around the hospital frequently but he does that out of mandate. It's different this time.

I'd gotten dressed up for him, too; I'd even ventured to put on some red lipstick for the occasion. This is no small deed. Red lipstick nights come with their own sets of rules for me. Speaking on broader, more generalized terms: red lipstick is only allowed when I don't plan on kissing someone. Of course, there are exceptions and fallacies and points of discrepancies. The first example to come to mind is that maybe I just don't plan on kissing someone throughout the night; and what does that matter, anyway? Everyone knows the kiss goodnight is the one that matters. The one that people seem to ask about. Red lipstick equates a kiss goodnight. It is synonymous with the farewell of the posh public; a bid adieu to the necessity of rushing to the bathroom to remove the red, joker-esque streaks smeared over one's face.