Disclaimer: Own no one but Kat and the intellectual idea.
Distribution: Flights.
Notes: Nothing more than a dream I had last night.

I don’t really remember how we met but here you are, sitting on the extra bed in my hotel room, watching me pack. I’ve been on the road with you guys, writing an article for a Canadian news magazine for almost three weeks now but I have to head on home. My next assignment is waiting for me in Toronto and if I played my cards right, I’ll be heading to South America to observe the fans’ obsession with soccer and its players.
I’m separating panties, clean ones in the suitcase and the soiled ones in a plastic bag I’ll be stashing at the bottom of the suitcase, out of sight and smell. You’re still sitting there, watching me, and I’m starting to freak out a bit. Why are you staring at me? Do you want something from me? Is there a pair of dirty panties doing the static cling thing with my skirt?
“Huh…”
Oh come on. You’re a well-spoken person, I’ve interviewed you. You can say whatever you want to say, ask whatever you want to ask. I’m not going to bite you.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering…”
“About?”
“You…”
Waiting for him to actually get the words out of his mouth could take more time than I have. So I go on packing, putting dresses and tailored suits in a garment bag. He keeps on watching me, making me feel very self-conscious.
“Would you be my girlfriend?”
The words stumble out of your mouth quickly and leave me dumb and pleasantly surprised. It’s your shyness that makes my heart melt for you. I guess that with your boldly colored hair, purple and in a pair of pigtails sticking from the top of your bright green cap today, I don’t expect shyness from you. Then again I didn’t expect your impressive insights into your co-workers either but you had them and they gave my article a depth I couldn’t have dreamt of. Goes to show how little I know the real you.
But your request remains: would I be your girlfriend? Call it a professional flaw but I want to know why you want me. Is it because we’re such opposites? You, the flashy free spirit who goes with the flow and me the conservative do-gooder who questions everything and then some. Am I attractive to you, mind, body and soul or am I a challenge? Someone you can’t wait to thoroughly debauch? What is it about me that you like so much? Was it how you managed to uncover me as a star struck fan?
Then I wonder how you think any of this could work. I’m the last of a dying breed: the globe-trotting photo-journalist. I go where the story is. In the next two days, I might be setting up shop in a hotel room is Peru or Bolivia, Argentina. You’re nothing more than a glorified carnival act. Well that was unnecessarily mean. Why did I even think it? Ah yes, finding a reason to dislike you and what you do in order to refuse your proposal, a proposal I’m desperate to accept but can’t…
The question is still fresh on your lips while I examine it like a child who got an unexpected toy on Christmas morning. I look at it, observe it carefully. Part of me wants to be bold and carefree and say yes. Part of me wants to be smart and careful and say no.
So much going on in my little mind in such a little time. I’m impressed with you, with your willingness to ask me that question. You have the courage to ask for what your heart desires, when I can barely ask for what feels right for my head.
I’ve made so many decisions in my life, some rash and ridiculous, some intelligent and logical and I don’t know which sides needs to be evened out. God, I think I’m going to answer… problem is I don’t know if I’m going to break his heart or make it.

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