"Oh, Nick," you ask one morning, "Would you be able to drop me off at the bus stop? My car's getting repaired."
"I can drop you off at your apartment," he offers.
"No," you say, "that's fine."
"It's nothing," he says.
You want to argue with him, but you're too tired. You get in the car, and you direct him to your apartment. He tries to start a conversation, but you don't want to talk. He leaves it, and you're glad for that.
"Just there," you say.
He pulls over, jumps out of the car to run around and open your door. You roll your eyes, but you're too tired to poke fun at him playing the gentleman and so you get out.
You take a few steps, yawn, and almost fall over. Nick is there, holding you up, almost instantly.
"Tired, are we?" he asks, arching his eyebrows.
"No," you deny, then yawn and stretch.
"Come on," he says, gently leading you up the steps.
"I don't need you to hold me up," you say.
"I don't want you to fall over," he replies.
He gets you to the front door, and you get out the keys.
"I'm fine now," you say, "I'm here now."
He looks at you suspiciously.
"I'm fine!" you protest.
"Okay then," he says, "Make sure you get some sleep."
He tucks a curl behind your ear, his fingers stroking your face gently. You're too surprised to move.
He leans in and, before you know it he's kissing you. You pull back, away from him.
He doesn't say anything as you look at him, he doesn't need to. His face expresses what words don't and what words can't.
"No," you say. "I can't." You leave it at that and turn away from him, unlocking the door into the foyer.
He doesn't call your name as you go through the door. He doesn't ask why.
Before you start going up the stairs, you take a quick look back outside. He's still standing there. You turn away quickly, before he has the chance to see your backward glance.
