WBH's answer came back "So, hows that working out for you?"
I'm sorry to have left it on such a cliff hanger yesterday, but there was a purpose to it. I think I mentioned that the talent competition was over one of the mountain passes, and that's when the reception started getting weird. I managed to text back "not very well at all," before we lost communication that night. Long story short, I didn't sleep well at all, but I took home $750 for winning second place and paid off some speeding tickets with it.
I returned home late the next evening, a Saturday and we didn't see each other for a fewdays. We sent messages here and there, solidifying plans to go to the circus a few days later. Sure I had messed things up, I felt silly and stupid for opening up and possibly ruining the good friendship we had. Resolving to pretend it never happened, I didn't mention the weekend's confession, and neither did he. I jumped at every text message, hoping he'd make the next move.
Wednesday night, we were seated together at church again. That week's theme remains a mystery. Spiritual enlightenment was the last thing on my mind. Was WBH sitting closer? I couldn't tell. Why wasn't he saying anything? Did he even know I was going crazy? I felt a little sick, to be honest, but we had rented a movie, and I took it as a sign that we could at least move forward as we had been: as friends.
We sat in the darkened living room, by the glow of The Count of Monte Cristo, my heart racing, the tension betweens us palpable...
Okay, that bit was all for WBH, who said after reading these posts "sheesh, it's like some cheap romance novel in here, honey!" However, the lights were off, we were watching a movie, and yeah, it was tense.
Then our hands brushed. Neither of us moved. Wait, was he holding my hand? Oh, for the love of all things good and green, he was holding my hand! I cautiously laid my head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around me. Too soon, the movie ended, and it was time for him to go home.
In the car, neither of us spoke. I couldn't handle it anymore. I decided that if he didn't say anything by the time I counted to ten, I'd say something. I didn't know what, but something had to be said. Feeling nauseated, I started counting. One... two... three... four..
"I think we're being stupid," WBH interrupted my counting. "We're dating now, right?"