And now this brief interlude…

Oh how I wish I owned it, but I digress. Chapter title is taken from Stephen King's Christine also known as the best book ever.

God, why must he be so perfect? I thought as a stared longingly at Haze as he stared longingly at a blank canvas.

"Fuck this." I heard him mutter under his breath as he tossed a paintbrush across the room. It hit the wall with a dull empty thud and Haze sunk to the floor in a deep depression.

I never did understand artists. It's like nothing is ever good enough for them. Haze feet compelled to paint this beautiful picture about the parting of the Red Sea. The only problem was he could never go through with it. He would start, but always end up like this. In a fetal position against the wall. Christ, I'm sure Leonardo DiVinci cranked out a few duds before finally painting the Mona Lisa. Hmm…Artists. Who knows?

Haze stayed like that on the floor for a good ten minutes before I got the brilliant idea to, you know, get him to move or something.

"Um Haze?" I started timidly. I've hardly said anything to him since moving here. All he ever does is sit and stare, pick up a brush, stare at the canvas, sit back down, throw the brush and keep staring. It was like an endless cycle of torture of a brilliant mind.

Haze grunts an unintelligible reply. Lets try again shall we? "Uh well, um I've noticed you don't really get out much and um, I was uh wondering if um well…You-wanted-to-go-to-dinner-with-me-tonight.

I said the last part very fast, afraid of rejection.

Haze lifted his head and looked at me through those beautiful green eyes. Those eyes had brilliance, a meaning, an understanding surely not of this world.

Haze blinked at me. "What?" he questioned in a tired voice.

"Well, this new place just opened down the street and it looks really good…and cheap. Well cheap but not like bad cheap, just um…" I trailed off. Smart. Aw shit! He is totally going to say no. I know it. He's going to reject me and then I'm going to go into the bathroom, grab a Lady Bic razor, raise it above my wrist and

"Sure."

"What?"

"Sure. I'd love to. I need to get out more. This cramped space isn't good for my vibes."

Oh my God he said yes. Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God

Oh shit. I have nothing to wear.

"Um ok well, I'll go get ready and then we'll go, I guess."

We stepped out of the building and into the bitter winter air nipping at our flesh.

During the walk to the restaurant (called The Life Café. Is that not just so chic?) it began to snow. Hard. I didn't even notice.

The walk to The Life was silent and awkward. I hated myself for even asking him out in the first place. I bet you anything this is a pity date. I bet he regrets this right now and tomorrow he'll get together with a bunch of his trendy artist friends for coffee and they'll all laugh about the horrible date Haze had last night with his loser eighteen year old roommate. And I bet as Haze leans back in his chair he'll lovingly put his arm around a beautiful blond French performance artist smoking a cigarette and dressed all in black wearing a beret and black lipstick and eyeliner.

I know exactly how our date is going to go. We will get to The Life. There will be no conversation except for Haze commenting on the horrible service. I will have forgotten my wallet even though I made sure I had it seven times before leaving. I won't be able to pay the bill and Haze will have to pay it with what little money he has. Then we will run back to the loft in freezing rain, Haze will be so pissed at me that he won't even say goodnight to me. Then while Haze is taking a shower I will rip off this awful gaudy belt and hang myself with it.

"So why New York?" Haze breaks the silence.

"What?" I respond intelligently.

"Why did you come to New York?"

Oh yeah I never did tell anyone why exactly why I came here

"Um. I wanted to live my dream."

SILENCE!

"Um I wanted to be something more a girl from Joliet, Illinois."

Haze smiled at this and before long he burst out laughing.

"What?"

"I'm sorry but that is the lamest fucking thing I've ever heard."

"Um…"

"I mean that's not why anyone real comes to this city." He was on a roll. He would surly win the break Janice Wiess' heart contest.

"You come to this city to live. Not follow some shitty impossible dream."

Who is he to say it's an impossible dream. I look at him with hurt eyes. He didn't seem to notice.

I let out a long breath. "My…my friend died."

"What?"

"She was stabbed by her jealous boyfriend in the girls bathroom at my high school the day I turned 18. She knew she didn't have much time left so she stumbled out of the bathroom and pulled the fire alarm. She was my best friend. All I ever had. I loved her so much. I ran away from the police station half way through my interrogation and here I am. I didn't come here to live or to follow my dreams. I came here because I'm a pathetic person. I ran away from my problems and I never want to look back. Oh God Haze, I just want the pain to go away."

I burst into tears and buried my head in the front of his coat. Melting into him. He backed up against a wall and stroked my hair. "It's okay." He kept saying. Fucking liar. It will never be okay. Sandi will always be dead. I let out another sob as I realized I had never gone the funeral. I had never said goodbye. My truly last words to Sandi were "Let me see you history homework. Oh shit the bell. See you third period."

Once I believed I could truly cry no more I looked up into Haze's beautiful eyes. So comforting. That mysterious intelligence glimmered just beyond the surface. I waited like that for God knows how long. Just staring into his all knowing eyes through my puffy red ones. In those brief moments we truly saw each other. All our flaws and rough edges and deep thoughts. We knew all there ever was to know. No words ever needed to be spoken

After what seemed like a millennium Haze leaned down and brushed his lips against mine for a moment. Then he pressed his lips to mine in an expression of pure love. At first I was startled but it was not long before I kissed back. My entire self was in that one kiss.

We strolled back to the loft. When we got to the door the temperature had dropped 10 degrees. Snowflakes were falling all around us. We, oblivious, shared a small lovely kiss.

Aww first kiss. How cute. Brownie points to any1 who can figure out the Joliet Illinois reference. Answer will be at the beginning of the next chapter, which I promise will have something to do with her career.

Until next time I really don't own emotion.