Short Changed

For all the moments of certainty, there did come moments of doubt.
I tried not to feel hurt when he told me he wanted to take me home first, because we had a project in the morning. But I knew I was kind of pouting in the backseat. I became noticeably less chatty, and I couldn't hide the signs of disappointment that I was sure were showing in my face.
Before long my happy Christmas cloud was gone.
I thought about him texting while we were walking, and taking me home first. I felt like I hadn't been allowed time to be with him. I felt like our date flopped. I could feel my eyes itching a little, a small pin inching it's way up my sternum. I hadn't had any real time with him for at least a week. And this wasn't real time.
So I sat quietly and decided not to say anything. I wouldn't ruin the night.
However I was decidedly hurt he didn't want to be irresponsible with me at all, when I so longed to be. Why was I the irresponsible goober?
I gave him a quick peck before trying to dodge inside. He wanted more, but I wasn't in the mood with his mother in the car. He pulled me softly into him as I pulled open the door, but again, soft pecks were all I gave him before slipping inside. I was in no mood. I was tired and hurt, and I wanted him to figure it out, although I knew he wouldn't. He sure knew how to leave me wanting more, with more of a saddened feel to it. So I went inside.
In retrospect, we had an unknown audience in the living room.
Maybe it was for the best.