One afternoon during the Christmas week that he was in town, we watched another episode from yet another show he had gotten me hooked on. Afterward, his hand slid up my leg, and we wasted the rest of the afternoon keeping half our clothes on while both our shirts pooled together on the floor beside his couch. I was on top, hair sticking out in every direction, my hands fingering the waistband of my skirt, when he gazed up and blurted, "You're really beautiful."

I was so taken aback that my only response was a hastily stuttered "Well thank you" and did something with my legs to keep him quiet. He's never given over to little sentiments like that. Later, I asked him why the momentary lapse, and he didn't have a satisfactory answer--"I just felt like saying that."

I'm glad he did, but I wish he hadn't.