Page 34 of The Naked Cleaner

“No, not my mum, a friend. Not a naturist. Normal person who roasts coffee and wears clothes. You know, not everyone is a naturist. We do socialise with clothed people too, you know.”

“Just kidding.” He smiles. I smile. We both blush. Fuck. Awkward.

“Please don’t make this weird.” I whisper. “I don’t want it to be weird.”

“Not weird.” He whispers back.

“I really like you.” Yeah. Still whispering.

“Me too. I like you. I like… everything about you, even the weird bits.” Pontus is looking right at me, and there it is, the little twinkle in his eyes that makes me all weak in the knees. Fuck, I love him.

“I really,reallywant this to work. I want to be with you, and do the wholebeing togetherthing. I don’t want to be friends who fuck, or just hook up. I want to be in love with you and I want you to be happy and you make me happy. This, right here, just waking up and cuddling with you and making you porridge makes me happy.”

Way to go Louis, rambling away as Pontus pushes me away and grapples for the tea towel on the counter.

Oh.

SHIT.

Yeah. That’s the porridge boiling over and the nice neat stove is now covered in greyish slime and Pontus is kind of dabbing at it with my nice new clean tea towel.

“Sorry… ooh… shit, just leave it.”

That’s me being all flustered and trying to lower the heat and rescue Pontus’ breakfast. I wanted to make it perfect. And now? It’s probably burnt on the bottom as well and I can feel my bottom lip quivering and my eyes stinging, and I’m a bloody fuck up, again, who can’t even cook his hopefully-one-day boyfriend porridge.

See? Boyfriend. I am way ahead of myself here, standing here all stunned by my own stupidity as Pontus is running the tea towel under the tap and trying to rinse sticky oats out of the fabric.

“I am in love with you and I don’t know what to do about it. It just makes me all flustered and I don’t know how we are going to do this, and I don’t know if you even want to. I just want to be with you. Sorry, I know I am too much. I’ll just go and get my stuff and I will leave you to work.”

That’s me. Because it’s almost ten, and in all honesty I should go. Let him get on with his day and be all normal. Not clingy and pathetic and standing here terrified that I will burst into tears or get a boner… or… both.Fuck.

Because now I’ve weirded him out, completely. Pontus is standing right there with the tap running on full blast and the soaking tea towel dripping dirty water on the floor. And he’s staring at me and I stare back and I can’t read him anymore. He’s all over the place going from angry to weird to flustered to maybe about to smile and then he is reining himself in again and just creepy staring at me.

“Are you coming back? Later?” He asks, and I still don’t know. Is he angry? Sad? Does he want me to?

“Can I sleep here?”

I have to ask. I need to. Please.

“Yes… of course. Please. Just come.”

There goes the dirty tea towel back in the sink, and he slams the tap down and wipes his hands on his naked hips and then growls like he’s just done something stupid, newsflash, he has. His hips are wet and his hands are up in the air and he stomps around in a circle before grabbing my fabric shopping bag off the floor and angrily wiping his hands first on it, then his hips. I’m never washing it again. I’m going to carry it around with me all day, sniffing it.

I’m officially creepy. And I know it.

“I meant it, Pontus. I want to see you. Tonight, and every night. I think, I know I am way ahead of myself here, but I think you and I would be so bloody good together. But that’s just me, if you need space just tell me and I will fuck off and wait for you to call…”

“Shut up.” He says, smiling. Then he kind of throws himself at me and slams me into the fridge door knocking a fridge magnet and some papers off the door, but I am too mesmerised to care. He’s right there. Face in my face. Nose against the tip of mine. Staring at me and I can’t see his mouth. I don’t know if he’s smiling or what he is doing, but I kiss him. I just can’t help myself. Just small pecks on his lips. One after another. Mine. Mine, mine,mine.

“You’re mine.” I whine. Pathetic. I’m going to start to cry now, because there are just all these feelings. Bloody feelings and wants and needs and dreams and hopes and bloody… stupid emotions.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before. You’re bloody weird, Louis.”

If I wasn’t so emotional, I would have laughed in his face. Instead I want to punch him in the stomach. I don’t, of course.

“I tell you I love you, and you tell me I’m weird? Way to go, to kill a guy trying to woo you.” I stutter out. I’m trying to be funny here.

Fail.

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