Part 1: In Which Helen Questions Things

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I must admit, I'm a bit confused.

Now, normally, I am not one to become baffled and unsure of things- let alone be taken aback by simple gestures: but this one has thrown me.

Tell me this?

What would you think if a man constantly tells you how he favors you and demands you remain in his life?

Ok.

Take that same man and tell him how you've been doing every wreck-less thing for him and watch him approach you as if he is going to say something profound or pull you close to his body to passionately show you his thoughts and feelings on the matter- only to have him stand there gaping at you with not so much as a word.

Right?

Now- put this man, who obviously feels some sort of deep care for you and make it so he sees you in this amazing outfit that looks stunning on you and have him once more hesitate to complete a fucking thought.

What do you have?

Confusion!

I am confused! Perplexed! Dumbfounded! And more so annoyed. So my question to you is- how do I know if he really has feelings for me or is just fucking with my mind? Hmm? Don't know the answer? Well neither do I. It has been a good week since all of this has happened and I still don't know if I should continue being vulnerable or just fuck off on the thought of Max actually having complex feelings for me. I mean this is a man, who since the beginning has chased after me in one way or another! Acts like a damn child when I don't give him the attention he requires from me and then dotes on me hand and foot to try and make me happy- all while masquerading it as him just being a kind friend. So mate, are you as confused about all this as I am or do you understand exactly what's going on?

Walking into work this morning, I'm not surprised when I find Max racing up to me with my daily espresso. He's been paying off this damn coffee debt for over three months now and I'm afraid he still is only in the 90's. At this rate, he will have it paid off when I'm fifty! Not that I'm complaining- it's kind of cute seeing him greeting me with coffee every day, because he feels bad for turning down my expensive cleaning service.

"Dr. Helen Sharpe! " There it is. My call. The beacon in which he uses to capture my attention. We are far passed formal greetings in this relationship, but regardless, he still uses it to embarrass me by yelling it across the damn atrium or any other part of the building- to stop me in my tracks. I slow down and look at him. His beard is slightly unkept and his scrubs are more wrinkled than normal. Not to mention the few pounds he's slowly been packing on- which isn't a horrible thing considering that for a few months after Georgia's death he was more bones than muscles.

"Did you have that rough of a morning or are you just going for the homeless doctor vibe?" I say as he's about three feet from me. He looks down and notices his scrubs and a small stain of some kind of jam on the lower part of his shirt.

"Haha, no- but Luna is enjoying the whole- let me see how dad looks in this kind of food this morning- phase. Yesterday morning it was pears. Today..." he looks down at the stain and shakes his head. "Cherry preserves."

"My munchkin does have quite the throwing arm now doesn't she?" I look up at him and notice some cherries in his hair and beard. Shaking my head, I place one hand on his right shoulder and tug him down a bit so I can take the food out of his hair and beard. His eyes are soft and looming on my face. When I have it out and cleaned up, I can't help but linger looking into his eyes. The oceans that captivate me every time I see them. More magnificent than the real oceans of the world. Realizing I'm staring and there's people passing us, I remove myself from being so intimate with him and take my coffee before continuing to the elevators. My fingers are sticky with cherry jam, but I ignore it. He catches up to me in about two steps and still seems so drawn to me. "Thank you for the coffee. Only 89 more to go."

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