Thursday and Friday passed in a snap; I could hardly keep track of how the days went through, mostly because I managed to go through two consecutive days without embarrassing myself. Much. Derek and I still haven't gotten around to continuing the conversation from Wednesday morning and every time I looked at a moving van on the streets, I could feel a part of my heartbreaking. The words to discuss the future living arrangement have been sitting on the tip of my tongue, but my lips are unwilling to let them slip. For as long as I could, I'm willing to live in my illusion of a perfect apartment.
I've seen Derek approaching me a couple of times when we were in the office and at home, but he always refuses to talk about whatever that's been bugging him. Even if my heart yearns for a frank and open talk with Derek, he's put up his shields.
"So, when's Tony moving in?" I'd asked him last night while doing dishes.
