I shook walking towards him, my adrenaline pumping into my veins faster than my brain could handle it. He looked up, honey eyes attentive and quick. He stared for a moment, then made a goofy face. �Stop looking at me!� he said.

I inhaled sharply. I hate the faces. The incident caused me to doubt my actions. I stood awkwardly in front of him. He bowed his head and returned to his book. That�s why, I told myself. I touched his hand gently. �Come?� I asked.

He made a gesture with his shoulders, as if to say �how annoying she is!� to anyone watching, then reluctantly rose and followed me. We walked into the cool evening. The sky was purplish and the ground was damp.

�So?� He asked.

�So.� I said. My fingers twitched, begging for a cigarette, something to occupy my hands and subconscious; something with which to avoid the intimacy of the moment.

�What did you want?� he asked as we strolled down the hill.

�Er. I don�t really know how to start. I guess...I�ll just say it. So...I have a photograph of you. I took it candidly, but it was taken right after we first got together. You�re looking directly at me in it, which is odd because lots of people were taking pictures...�

�So?�

�There�s this look on your face. Like you�re proud. Like you�re just so pleased that I�m your girl and that I�m taking a picture of you and you�re just content and loving and excited, but calm. Like when you greet an old friend.�

He remained silent, his eyes fixated on some point in the distance.

�You never look at me like that now. You look at me like I�m stupid, or you look at me like I�m far away or like you don�t understand me. You act like kissing me is a task, talking to me is a waste of time, and any contact is a big production you can do without...�

�I don�t,� he said lamely. I cut him off.

�You don�t stick up for me in front of your friends, hell, you don�t stick up for yourself in front of your friends. You have no balls. I�m denouncing you as a boyfriend and as a man and you have nothing to say about it. Anything you say you think, as soon as someone else thinks something else, you pretend you think what they do. I can�t stand it. I hate the way you never start anything, the way you are so passive, and the way you�ll flirt with anyone but me. Why won�t you flirt with me? You�re fucking me for Christ�s sake! Then you act like I�m always ignoring you, and you look at me with some awful wounded look like you want me to come over and be the fucking man in the relationship...I have news for you dolly, I am the woman in the relationship. I have tits, I have a fucking cunt. I shouldn�t have to make decisions and first moves and pay and drive and call!�

He stared ahead blankly. I stopped walking, and he turned to face me.

�You don�t have anything to say?�

He looked down, away, anywhere but at me. �I�m...sorry. I guess I didn�t know anything was bothering you.�

�Well...� I said.

�I know,� he said. �I�m bad at this. Whatever. I can�t help it. You�re not really easy to deal with, you know. One day you�re rubbing my leg, the next you�re shooting me dirty looks for trying to talk to you. I mean, I don�t really know where we are, you say we�re friends, and now you�re calling me your boyfriend, and you say things were mistakes but you keep wanting to repeat them over and over again, and I�m trying, but I�m finding it tough to keep up.�

�I...�

�And at that point, I probably was happy, because I thought you were my girlfriend and that things were going great. You kissed me and we had bought cigarettes together and we just hung out. Then you started saying that it didn�t mean anything and we shouldn�t place too much importance on things, so I figured that what you said was what you meant...� he shrugged. I could tell he wanted a cigarette too, but I don�t think he could tell.

�Okay,� I said. I studied his face. It was dark, but his features were clear in the streetlights. I couldn�t remember for the life of me what I�d disliked about him, ever, or why I�d ever doubted my desire for the relationship. I wanted him to write songs about me and make bee lines for me at parties and take me to parties and to buy me stupid presents. I wanted to buy an economy pack of condoms and know that I would use the whole thing.

�I don�t know,� he said. �Are we �going out?� Are we �us?� I can try. I mean, I�m not...enthusiastic about it.�

�You don�t want to date I�m not going to force you. I don�t date, this is a lot for me to be saying...�

�I don�t �not want to date you.� I just don�t really want to date. I don�t really have time or care much,� he shrugged

�Neither do I. You should know that. But I�m willing to give it a try.�

He nodded and looked around. �Fuck it,� I mumbled. I leaned up and touched my lips against his. He responded anxiously.

�Don�t try so hard,� I told him. �Kissing isn�t anything. Just do it once in a while...�

He looked at me strangely. �I think I can handle it. I guess. I can try.�

I grinned. �Want to go dutch on a pack of Newports?�

The tension left his face, and he smiled warmly, like he had in the picture. �I thought you�d never ask.�

�Bitch,� I murmured.

�What?� he asked, his face animated with a smile.

�Nothing,� I said.

�Thought so,� he said, pulling out his own five dollar bill and slamming it down on the newsstand�s counter. �One pack of Newports, please.�