Ruthie Camden woke suddenly, looked around, and muttered, "It was just a dream…"
Remembering her dream, she smiled. How she wished it were true, that she was with him, and he loved her back. He'd been acting strange lately, but that couldn't have anything to do with her, could it? No, it had to be because his father had come home, and he was happy, that's it, nothing more. Unfortunately.
Martin on the other hand, hadn't been able to sleep at all. He looked around his room. His eyes already well adjusted to the dark-he'd been lying in bed for close to 5 hours. He looked at his clock. It read 1:57.
My God, Martin. Look at yourself! You are pathetic! Since when has a girl had this effect on you? Pull yourself together!
Slowly, he sat up and pushed his feet out from under the blankets and onto the warm wood floor. Rather quickly, his gaze focused on a picture on his nightstand. It was of him and Ruthie at the airport when his dad came home. He loved that picture. It showed that he and Ruthie were capable of actually standing that close without feeling discomfort.
All of a sudden, something hit him like a ton of bricks. All of a sudden, it was so clear. His actions toward her since "The Hug," how he couldn't look her in the eye anymore, even though he wanted to. He didn't love the picture. He loved her.
His eyes opened wide and his mouth formed an O. He had to tell her. Wait. I can't tell her. What if she doesn't feel the same way? This is absurd, Martin. This shouldn't be a difficult decision. Just tell her. It's not that hard. Just do it. Great, now I sound like a Nike commercial. That's it. I'm going to bed. And with that last thought, he laid down and shut his eyes.