So Many Reasons Why by Missy Johnson Page B

me.
    People walking past below, chattering, and the television of
my next door neighbour. A baby crying in the apartment block opposite me. I
slid the door shut and pulled myself to my feet. From the protection of the
window, I stood looking out over my balcony. The grey clouds looked
threatening, as though they were going to release rain at any moment. The trees
in the park adjacent to me swayed erratically in the wind. I could see what
appeared to be a kite caught in a tree branch. A small child cried hysterically
as a man tried to fish it down. Finally I moved away. It felt so good to take a
step forward. I deserved a reward. I ran the bath, filling it with a special
bubble bath gran had given me for my birthday last year.
    Back in the kitchen, the kettle was almost boiled. I
rummaged through my herbal teas, finally deciding on a green and Jasmin
infusion. Beep.
    I still can’t believe you made me watch that crap. 
I feel like you’ve made me less of a man.  
    The usual feeling I got when he texted engulfed my body.
True, last night I had forced him into watching Runaway Bride . Only after he forced me to watch The Transporter . It was as though we
were trying to see who could cause the other more pain. Though I still didn’t
understand how watching Richard Gere could ever be seen as a punishment.
    A real man wouldn’t have felt threatened by watching
Richard Gere in the first place. Maybe I’m making you more of a man.
    I slid the phone into the pocket of my dressing gown and
headed back to the bathroom. I set my tea and phone on the vanity then walked
over to the bubbling water. Dipping my hand in, I was happy it was just the
right temperature. Too often I made the water way too hot, causing what felt
like third degree burns when I finally slid in. My phone beeped again.
    Richard Gere never makes anyone more of a man. I think we
need to settle this over a drink. What are your plans for tonight?
    My plans for the night so far involved me in front of the
television with a can of beer and maybe some corn chips. That was, until Simon
invited himself over.
     
    Simon sat on the couch, singing along to American Idol. I
eyed him from the other end of the couch.
    “You’re very distracting, you know.” He raised his eyebrows
and jumped up. Suddenly, he was dancing around the room, toward me.
    Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your
body,
    But I know not everybody has a body like you.
    He grabbed hold of my hands and pulled me to my feet. I
shook my head. I was embarrassed for the poor guy. He was a shocking singer,
and an even worse dancer. But at that moment he was so damn sexy. My tongue
brushed over my lips. Forgetting to breathe tended to make my lips dry. I
giggled as he circled me around the room. He would be a nightmare to take to a
concert. He would be the guy who thinks he can sing better and louder than
anyone else, including the artist.
    “You are such a dag.” I groaned. He had stopped singing, and
had pulled me in close. I hated being this close to him. He had no idea what
being this close to him did to me. His breath exhaled on my cheek, so warm. He
cupped my chin gently. His touch made me tingle as he ran his finger slowly
down my cheek, tracing over my lips. I kissed his finger.
    “You have no idea how stunning you are.” He whispered. He
was about to kiss me. I could feel it as the distance between us began to
close. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled away.
    “I’m sorry Em.” He turned, cursing himself. I'd never seen
him so angry. So frustrated.
    “Fuck!” he yelled, kicking the side of the bench. I jumped.
His anger, even though I knew it wasn't directed at me, rippled through me. I
didn’t handle anger well. The usual signs were all there, suggesting I would
break down at any minute. The feeling of tears in the back of my throat, the
ball of anxiety in my stomach, stretching, growing. My breathing increased
rapidly.
    “Please stop.” I whispered. I wiped away the tears that