What am I doing?

I was breathing heavily by the time we'd got to the top of the hill, his strides were longer than mine so I'd had to step double-time to keep pace.

We didn't talk as we walked, just sort of shared glances, him finishing his cigarette and chucking the butt to the floor just before we rounded the corner onto his street.

"What's up with you?" He asked as he pulled his keys out of his pocket, "You look like you've been shot or something."

I had to laugh. The improbability of me ever being shot made the statement hilarious and made me want to hug him until he pushed me away. Which he inevitably would. Most people did.

"Nah," I tried to think of something to say as he just stared at me, his eyes flickering across my face as his laughter died down and we fell back into silence, "You know smoking will so kill you."

"Yeah, well, maybe I do it to rebel." He shrugged, "Doesn't really matter when you-" He stopped and went pink, "You wanna come in, or what?"

I realised that I'd pulled him away from his friends for no reason whatsoever, and that he was probably expecting me to grill him on homework, or chemistry, or something...

"Yeah, that'd be really nice." I felt so stupid, but I wasn't going to make any attempt to shut up. "That'd be really, really-"

"Nice?" He laughed and I smiled, "How've you been, anyway? I never get the chance to talk to you, you're always in the library or working-"

His words faded out into the background as I looked around the room I was currently standing in. The smart photographs across the walls, the painting hanging on the stairs, the fact that I could happily build a kitchen in that corner, and a small person could easily move in and remain unnoticed for at least a year.

I felt faint.

He was rich. I was average.

Remind me again what the hell I was being spontaneous for.

The End

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