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Joel truly has no idea what he's doing.
In the days since Spencer had agreed to come over, he's picked up his phone at least a dozen times to call him and cancel, but in the end he hadn't been able to go through with it. He's scared and the thought of whatever this is is more than enough to make his heart pound, but the thought of not doing it is even worse and so each time he'd put the phone down feeling a little calmer.
But he still doesn't know what he's doing.
Spencer is set to arrive any minute and over the past two hours Joel has turned the music off and then back on three times. He's fed his cat, filled her water dish, shooed her out of the apartment and then called her back inside. He's cleaned the bathroom and the small kitchen, he's swept the floor, straightened the books on all the shelves.
Twice he's wished his bedroom was separate. That his bed is in plain view of the rest of the apartment feels strange to him, like it's something that's supposed to be closed away where no one else can see. But it's not like he can build walls in his apartment in a day; he wouldn't want to, anyway, he actually likes the open space most of the time.
There's nothing left for him to do. He tries to read, but he can't concentrate and in the end he just sits at his dining room table, drumming his fingers on the top of it, waiting for the buzzer from downstairs to ring. With every passing second, it becomes easier to convince himself Spencer isn't going to show up.
In the days since Spencer had agreed to come over, he's picked up his phone at least a dozen times to call him and cancel, but in the end he hadn't been able to go through with it. He's scared and the thought of whatever this is is more than enough to make his heart pound, but the thought of not doing it is even worse and so each time he'd put the phone down feeling a little calmer.
But he still doesn't know what he's doing.
Spencer is set to arrive any minute and over the past two hours Joel has turned the music off and then back on three times. He's fed his cat, filled her water dish, shooed her out of the apartment and then called her back inside. He's cleaned the bathroom and the small kitchen, he's swept the floor, straightened the books on all the shelves.
Twice he's wished his bedroom was separate. That his bed is in plain view of the rest of the apartment feels strange to him, like it's something that's supposed to be closed away where no one else can see. But it's not like he can build walls in his apartment in a day; he wouldn't want to, anyway, he actually likes the open space most of the time.
There's nothing left for him to do. He tries to read, but he can't concentrate and in the end he just sits at his dining room table, drumming his fingers on the top of it, waiting for the buzzer from downstairs to ring. With every passing second, it becomes easier to convince himself Spencer isn't going to show up.
