Finding a Way Together

I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed when he knocks and walks in. He crosses half the room without meeting my eyes. My stomach sinks. I'd been hoping this might be a chance to really get closer—finish what we started last night...

The noise he made almost sent me over the edge. His chest rose and fell quickly under my hands and he couldn't stop leaning in to kiss me, even when he was trying to talk. 

...But as he walks to stand next to the bed, his face is an unreadable mask. None of the hunger, none of the delight he had last night. I have a hunch if his skin wasn't so dark, he'd be pale. He looks a little gray around the edges. 

"What is it?" I ask.

"You," he says without hesitation. "You're lying. You're hiding something. And I…I'm terrified about what it might mean. I want you to trust me. I want you to tell me what it is."

I pick at the hem of my pajama pants and avoid his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter.