Nuru's Happiness

"What would make you happy?"
"What?" I wasn't expecting him to ask that, I'd at least expected him to ask something about my unexplored sexuality.
"What — do you think —would make you happy?"
"I am happy."
"No you're not."
"I am."
He seemed confused and unconvinced. Surely he knew I was lying to him. Not that I was much of a convincing liar anyway.
"What's your greatest fear?"
I looked down; my ears were hot. Nobody knew my fear factor, not even Jennie and yet here Roman sat, looking out of the window as he drove through the busy streets, asking me the most incriminating thing ever — my greatest fear?
I was shaking my head, staring wide-eyed at him. "I can't tell you that, you'll only laugh at me."
He turned to look at me, his gaze penetrating, curious. "I'm not that big of a jerk am I?"
I watched the hurt filter in his eyes and then froze where I sat. His eyes were earnest.
This puzzled me. Why did he care what I thought of him? It wasn't like he was asking the opinion of someone of significance. It was just me. Just plain old, Nuru.
"I guess it's the thunder."
"Hmm..." his eyes were still very much curious. "Tell me, is it the lightning or the sound that gets to you?"
I was confused by his interest in what I had to say. "I don't know which is worse, the sound makes it so earth shattering, but the light, my heart literally stops every time it illuminates the room. It gets worse when there's no power."
He nodded and then he turned frustrated eyes on me, his hands were impatient against the steering wheel. "Aren't you going to ask me my fear?"
My jaw dropped, I was frozen in surprise. "You fear something?" That seemed so ridiculous to me.
His eyes were suddenly amused. "It's man's nature to fear something, it could be anything."
I was skeptical. The guy had a flipping tiger as a pet. "But not you, right? Okay, so what is it? The one thing that creeps you out?"
He shuddered and glanced at me very quickly and then back out at the window. He mumbled something but it was too low for me to hear.
"What's that, Roman?"
"Philophobia."
I rolled my eyes. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"
He turned his gaze to me, his face serious. "So cupid should stay away! It terrifies the hell out of me."
Oh shit!
"I... um... I didn't realize."
"Yeah." He glanced at me and grimaced. "I owe you an apology. The way I behaved the first time we met. Can you forgive me?"
I nodded.
We were silent for a moment and then Roman turned to look at me, hesitantly.
"Okay...can I be honest with you?" He paused, deliberating. "It's something I've noticed about you... And I don't like it."
I angrily looked away from him, out the window and cursed him under my breath. "Please be honest with me."
"You're miserable, you're lonely, you feel unloved." He glanced at me and quickly looked away, back to the road, "Do you want me to continue?"
I frowned. "I'm not miserable, I'm not lonely."
"We both know I'm right, I just don't get why you're being evasive about it."
I huffed, defeated. "How do you do that?"
"I pay attention."
My eyebrows knit together and my chin raised a fraction, eyes studying the side of his face.
"I'm afraid I'm unnatural," I began, voice low. "Sometimes I just stay up at night, glaring at the darkness of the night, and I just know that something is wrong — somehow. I think I was born without the parts that make people interesting, that make people brave. I can't strike up a conversation with girls my age, boys are just a whole new dimension. I can't talk to people in general. I also think I'm missing an essential part that makes me connect to them."
I glanced out of the window again — wondering why I felt the need to explain myself to him — but couldn't see a thing. "I've made friends — or something like that — in the past but somehow I struggle to keep those relationships. They try to keep the relationship going, but they just give up, figuring I'm not worth it, I think."
"I guess something is wrong with me then," he pointed out.
I reminded myself not to look back up at his compelling face. I didn't need to look at him anymore than was — 'naturally', well natural to me —acceptable.
"Huh?"
"I happen to think you're worth getting to know," he disagreed, and he turned his sympathetic eyes to my face. "Don't sell yourself short."
I half-smiled. "I think you're just being nice."
His eyes continued — to my bewilderment — to stare at me in interest.
"I'm not known to be nice," he said, smiling in response. "I'm an asshole, remember?"
I grimaced and raised my chin stubbornly. "Whatever."
"I'm annoying you," he assumed with amusement.
"Of course you are."
"Why?"
I made the mistake of meeting his gaze again... And naturally my annoyance melted. "Because you make me feel like you want to get to know me."
"And that's bad because...?"
"Because I want to get to know you." I blurted honestly.
"Me or my body?"
"Ugh." I sighed in exasperation. "There you go again."
He looked at me seriously. "Just listening to your voice takes all my blues."
"Really?"
He scowled. "You want it in writing?"
"Actually, yes."
His face was still grave. "You interest me."
This puzzled me. "Why?" I asked. "I'm the most uninteresting person I know."
"Hmm..." he pulled the car to a stop. "That's what I'm trying to figure out myself," he mumbled so low that I was sure he was talking to himself. He was moving again when the light turned green.
The car pulled to a stop downtown.
I raised an eyebrow.