WARNING: NEIL LIKES TYPOS...
Okay. So last time I mentioned Anna and Daniel, hopefully sitting in a tree. . .
He came home last night and after we got his usual right-to-the-point debrief, I waited until he’d had a chance to unpack and settle in. Here’s what happened as best as I can remember:
His bedroom door was open. It always is. I knocked anyway.
“Come in,” Daniel said from his cross-legged perch on the bed.
“Hey.” I’m pretty sure I sounded like a shivering simpleton.
Then he just stared at me. Not in a creepy way. Daniel Briggs is FAR from creepy.
No, his stare is more expectant and ever-patient.
“I was wondering,” I somehow got out of my mouth. “Anna came by.”
“Thats what you said.”
And I had. I’d given him a detailed rundown of her visit not an hour earlier, all in hopes that I would’ve have to have this awkward conversation.
Screw it, I thought. Out with it.
“I was wondering why—well, why you too aren’t together,” I said.
Daniel nodded, thoughtfully, I think.
“That’s a good question.”
Then the stare again, like I’d asked my one permitted question and now it was time for the next.
Buck up, Neil.
“Yeah, well, I just thought that, you know, she’s pretty great. Smart. Pretty.” Holy blubbering coward! “Are you going to tell me why you’re NOT together?”
Daniel shrugged. “It’s not our time yet. That’s the best way I can explain it.”
I was not to be deterred!
“But you like her, right?”
“And you know that it usually takes someone to make the first move?”
This felt like a middle school replay.
I must’ve looked completely flustered because Daniel smiled and said, “It’s not time, Neil.” Then he cocked his head just so. “But I’ll let you know when it is, okay?”
I’m not sure what I said in response, just got out of there as fast as I could feeling the total spying creepo.
But it was a good thing I left when I did. My control center was waiting and lo and behold there a blinking message. It’s something about Daniel. I’ve gotta go and take care of this. Not sure if I can write about it later. We’ll see. These alerts are never good. . .
Back to work,