= Chris POV =
An hour later found me slumped over on the coffee table where Sarah had left me, thinking about how I was going to handle things moving forward.
To my surprise, Sarah stormed out of her room and walked up to me, standing with her hands on her hips and just staring at me, with an unreadable expression on her face.
Instead of saying another, she turned and walked the length of the apartment and then started pacing the length of the kitchen, her bare feet making soft sounds against the tile. She chewed her lip and twisted a lock of her dark brown hair around her finger.
I got up slowly and walked over to the kitchen. I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her. She wouldn't look at me, not directly. Finally, she stopped and turned, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief.
"Why?" Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. "Why are you so into me? I don't get it. I'm just... I'm just some plain bumpkin from the countryside. I paint. I hang out with my friends. Half the time, I'm unemployed, and when I do work, I'm overworked and underpaid. You could have anyone, Chris. You've had other girls. Why are you so... hyper-focused on me?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and pointed. I straightened and stepped toward her, but she moved back, her eyes darting to the floor. So I stopped, keeping a careful distance. I exhaled slowly, searching for the right words.
"Well," I began softly, "maybe you'd know if you ever asked me what my type was. But since you're asking now, I'll tell you."
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, wary but curious.
"The kind of girl I like..." I paused, my voice catching slightly. "She's a gentle beauty. Someone who makes me feel calm and grounded. My life is hectic, Sarah. Work is insane. Everything is always moving a hundred miles an hour. I don't want a partner who adds to that chaos—I want someone who makes it all stop. That's what you are to me. You're laid back. You don't ask for anything except... me. And that's all I want to give."
She crossed her arms, her jaw tightening, but she didn't interrupt.
"You've always been my lucky charm," I continued, my voice growing more earnest. "You are my muse and my reason for working so hard. I've chased success only because I wanted to share it with you. I wanted to come home to you. When we were in that dorm, it was the one thing that kept me sane. You've been my everything for so long, Sarah, and maybe I've been too afraid to say it. But it's true."
For a moment, there was silence. I let the words linger, hoping she'd feel the weight of them. But her expression didn't soften.
"So that's it?" she said bitterly. "You like me because I'm boring and easy to deal with? Great. Just perfect." She spun on her heel and stormed toward the living room.
"Wait—Sarah!" I called, rushing after her. Before I could think it through, I scooped her up, cradling her against my chest. She wriggled and squirmed, smacking my face with her palms.
"Put me down! Put me down right now!" she shrieked, kicking her feet.
"No!" I said firmly, holding her tighter despite her protests. "Listen to me."
I felt her struggling, but I refused to let go, staring down at her wild, frustrated eyes.
"You make my heart race like no one else ever has," I said, my voice low but steady. "You're not boring, Sarah. You're bright—a light at the end of every tunnel I've been through. You're my star. My guiding light. I'm obsessed with everything about you. Your art. Your laugh. The way you talk about things you love. I want all of it. I'd do anything for you."
For a moment, she froze, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven. But then her indignation flared again, and she doubled down on hitting me.
"Put me down!" she demanded, her voice sharp.
"Fine," I relented, setting her carefully on the floor.
She stepped back and shoved me hard enough to make me stumble.
"Stop manhandling me!" she snapped. "You wouldn't like it if I picked you up and ran around with you like you weighed nothing, would you?"
I tilted my head, the corner of my mouth quirking up. "Honestly—"
"Don't even start!" she groaned, throwing her hands in the air. Without another word, she spun on her heel and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frames on the walls.
I stood there, rubbing my cheek where her palm had landed earlier, staring at the closed door. The words I wanted to say hovered on my lips, unspoken.