“Did you want to come inside?” Michael asks, and I close my eyes, hoping he wasn’t going to ask me.
We’re both standing at our respective doors, and I want to press my head against my front door, just to cool down the fever that feels like it’s simmering underneath my skin. I haven’t drunk anything alcoholic, and dinner was pretty great—I made him laugh a few times, only for him to get self-conscious about his lip, which I didn’t think would hurt, watching him cover up his mouth like that.
The fact remains that while I want to spend time with him, I do, I still don’t know if it’s a good idea.
“Ummm, well…” I hedge, waiting for my brain to supply me with the right kind of words to make this easier on the both of us, to make the rejection sound hopeful instead of the wall I’m actually pu
