I glance over at him, only slightly observing as he fidgets about with his device. My steps lead me to the fridge, of which I open. "So... I haven't seen you in a bit." I push the container in an open space, then move out to close the fridge.
"A week and some? Two?"
He's still occupied with his phone. I lick my lips, moving over to the other side of the kitchen. "Yeah. Around two weeks. Where have you been?"
"Around."
"Doing?"
"Stuff."
Oh. After staring at him for just a few seconds — still on his device, typing away — I hum, leaning over to grab my bag before rounding the kitchen island and then making my way to my room. I dump my bag on the bed, then pull of my jersey, folding it neatly but that too, leaving it on the bed.
I'm a bit hesitant to change out of my pants and slip on some home short, but after just a few seconds of eyeing my door, I decide to do it as though I'm only moment from being caught doing something forbidden. The moment my shorts are on, I meekly leave the room and head back to the kitchen.
Micah is still where I had left him, typing away on his device. I shake my head, heading towards the small living room before sitting, then switching on the television. Odd moments go by; the silence in the apartment is filled with various of sounds from the large gadget.
Is he acting strange? I don't know if I've experienced or am used to him behaving as though I don't exist in the moment. I'm used to him being present, giving me wanted and even unwanted attention.
"So, why are you here?"
Now, he turns his head directly at me, eyebrow raised enough to decipher confusion at my question, though it does little to shift his attention from his decide as he goes back to typing. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you've been busy for the past two weeks. I haven't seen you, so I may or may not have been concerned, but you've been so busy that even still, as you're here in my apartment, you're still busy. So why come over?" Once again, he looks at me. I can tell I have his attention now because he lowers his device, head lifting up fully so he looks at me.
Micah then sighs heavily, running one hand through his hair as the other places his phone on the kitchen counter. "I'm sorry, Gertrude. Yeah," he chuckles, though I can't decipher if it's one of lack of amusement or one of sheer drain, "I've been busy, I have. But I really wanted to see you."
"What's one more day handling your business?"
"That's one more day without seeing you." He now takes steps towards me, then completely stands right in front of me. He is a tall being, but he has even more of an advantage since I'm seated. I peep through my lashes at him, only for a moment, then drop my eyes to his thighs. Exactly at his thighs, nothing higher for the sake of my sanity.
"Yeah, well—"
"I was losing my mind, drowning in a lot, and I needed to see you, Gertrude."
"I understand, but I think, priorities—"
"You are a priority." Now, he bends by his knees, not fully for him to be all the way down, but enough to seem as though he's squatting. He then takes hold of my chin (what is it with men taking hold of chins) to manoeuvre my attention to him. "I have other priorities, fair, but you're a priority to me as well, and it wouldn't be fair to not attend to you. I have been busy, but I also had no way of communicating with you. I could have asked Andrea but, given the situation between the both of you..." he chuckles a bit. "I asked Qaileen, but amongst other complications, she didn't have your number."
