As he walks into my house, he seems comfortable. Like he’s happy to be there. He takes his shoes off in the foyer, and walks into the living room where I’m doing my geometry homework. He sits next to me on the floor, our backs leaning on the front of the couch. We just sit. Not talking. I can feel him glancing over at me every few seconds, waiting for me to talk.
What he did the night before still hasn’t left my mind; and the feeling of sadness and disappointment is still there. Sitting and waiting, waiting for him to apologize for what he did, and for things to go back to normal. Wishing. Wishing he wasn’t so terrible at apologizing, wishing he didn’t do it in the first place.

When he realizes I’m still not talking, he calls my dog over to him; he loves playing with my dog. His laughter fills the room, he sounds like a little boy who has just discovered something new. I have to try and hide my smile, so he doesn’t think I’m not angry. But my plan fails; he notices my smile, stops playing with my dog and looks toward me.

He smiles when he looks at me, he has a beautiful smile. But every time I tell him he doesn’t believe me, considering he’s really self conscious of his braces. It seems like he smiles a lot around me though, like he doesn’t mind if I see the things he believes to be imperfect.
He puts his hand on my back and kisses my cheek, “I’m really sorry..,” he finally apologizes. I look at his big blue eyes, and the pink line surrounding each of his eyes, which looks like pink eyeliner that he puts on every day. His thick, black eyelashes that bring out the color of his eyes and draw you towards his face, draw me in just like they do everyone else.
I finally speak, telling him it’s okay, even though it really isn’t. I say it’s okay to stop the arguing, and because he looks truly sorry. He also knows it’s not okay, and what happened the night before upset me beyond belief. But him, and I both are going to pretend everything is all right and hope nothing like this happens again.
After his apology, I look back down at my homework. I then see his big hands, like dinner plates, reach over and grab the homework out of my lap and he starts doing it himself. As I observe him while he does my homework, I think about it and figure out this fight doesn’t matter compared to all the good things he’s done for me. Other girls would die to be me. I try to forget about what happened, but I know I won’t. But I think forgiving him would be good enough.