Being Shown Around

I had calmed down by this point, no longer uncertain about what my place was in the world, so I would have been fine if he had decided to put me down and show me around normally. Not that I was gonna tell him that.

Instead I tightened my arms around his head, pulling it against my breasts and said, "OK, I'm ready. You can show me around."

And so he did.

He walked me through the apartment, showing me the small living room, the bathroom, the kitchen (where he literally bent over backwards so that I was able to get at eye level with the stove to see the controls better), and, finally, the bedroom. A part of me can't help but fantasize that he left the bedroom for last for a reason, a sort of, now we enter this room and don't leave for the rest of the day reason. I silently chided myself, I should know by now that Grant doesn't -

"Actually, can I put you down for this last bit? I have a bit of a surprise in there that I want to prepare for you," Grant says, a little sheepishly.

?

A surprise? A surprise, in the bedroom!?!

No way am I gonna pass this up!

I agreed, trying to hide my eagerness, which I just know he will misinterpert, the stubbornly overconsiderate goof that he is, with some demure-ness. Demure-ity? Whatever the word is, I was demure.

The moment my feet touched the ground, Grant bolted away.

As I hear him bustling around in his bedroom, I couldn't help but imagine the bedroom littered with rose petals, soft candle light to set the mood, and Grant, shirtless and oiled up, ready for me.

Grant swung open the door excitedly, disappointingly clothed. It was an unrealistic dream anyways. He ushered me in to the bedroom. I looked around, trying to figure out what his surprise was. The bedroom looked pretty normal from what I could see, nothing special. I tried not to stare at the bed, knowing that if I did I would get lost in my fantasies.

"Observe!" Grant said with a flourish. His amazing surprise is... a closet. "Half for me," he said, gesturing towards the side of the closet that has everything haphazardly shoved against it, "Half for you," he continues, gesturing to the other emptier side. He turns around to face me, taking both of my hands in his, "I wanted to make it absolutely clear to you, that you belong here, as an equal. You are not a **** or a servant, you are an equal," he said earnestly.

Aw, he's trying.

"I want to be here. I want to be here with you," I said, responding to earnestness with earnestness, before throwing my arms around him. He froze for a second, and then wrapped his arms around me in return, holding me almost gingerly as if afraid to touch me.

I feel that there is some irony in how he wants me to know that I am wanted and welcome, but cannot seem to understand that he is wanted and welcome.

I fucking hate irony.