“It’s never going to work,” he said, sullenly, still staring at the floor.  “I really think you’re wasting your time.”

“You know what’s a waste of time?” I offered.  “That we’re still here even discussing this. Don’t you have work or something?” James glanced down at his watch and let out a soft sigh.

“I just don’t want to see you get -”

“Hurt, I know,” I stated, my hardened demeanor softening slightly at my friend’s concern for my emotional well-being. “But I’m probably going to, eventually. In fact, I definitely am.  I could get hit by a bus the next time I leave the building too…should I hide in here for safety’s sake too?”

“Might not be so bad.”

“You’d love that,” I chuckled, placing the last stack of warm, folded towels into the closet.  “Why are you so particularly concerned with this, anyway?”

James took my hand and swung me around playfully in mock-ballroom dance fashion, eventually twirling me into his arms.

“What would you like me to say, Harris?” he asked, his face close to mine.  I felt my face flush with color as I tried to anticipate his next move, but soon, we were but maybe an inch from each other’s lips.  He placed a soft hand on my chin, slowly turning my head to the side, before finally placing a very loud (and very wet) raspberry on my cheek.

“See? You’re too vulnerable,” he laughed, as I squirmed to break free of his puerile prank’s grasp.  “Dude’s gonna walk all over you!”

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