“Correction: I promised to fend off creepy kids in the middle of night, not to hold in my laughter. There you go making assumptions again,Hales.”
“That’s an asshole move,asshole.” She pouts, crossing her arms over her ample chest.
I begin a witty reply, but I’m too enraptured by the sight in front of me. In the span of a few seconds she’s glued back to the show, fully engrossed in the storyline. Much like her, I’m unable to look away. She’s so…intriguing. I count the seconds that tick by, noting how she only blinks twice in a minute, which is insane because I happen to know that on average people blink about fifteen times per minute, or once every four seconds.
I don’t bother returning my attention to the show, too interested in watching Haley’s reactions. Every time the creepy music plays, her mouth floats open. Whenever someone pops up out of nowhere, her breath hitches and her eyes grow twice their size. And whenever something truly scares her, she lets out a little squeal and grips my arm tightly. It makes me feel like a fucking king because I’m the one she’s clinging to.
Her chest is pumping fast, and I try not to let my eyes fall to her breasts, because then I’ll just think about how she’s not wearing a bra again, but I’m unsuccessful.
Great. I’m thinking about it again—or more accurately, again again.
I force my gaze upward, back to her face, to those full lips of hers. I’m just in time to watch another gasp slip from them. It’s subtle and somehow sexy. If someone told me my body had a mind of its own, I’d believe them right now, because for no and yet every reason, I’m suddenly leaning in closer to her. Inching slowly, my focus purely on her lips. I want to touch them, taste them. I want to capture them between my own and never break for air.
Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her,chantsa devious voice in my head.
Oh, I want to. I want to kiss herbad.
I’m just shy of being all up in her personal space when I snap out of whatever the fuck is going on with me and casually move myself back to where I was. It takes minutes to talk my dick down while I pray she doesn’t happen to look over at the tent in my jeans.
I haven’t had an accidental boner since I was fifteen. What the hell is wrong with me tonight?
“Do you want to watch another?”
Her silky voice startles me, causing the hairs on my arms to rise. “Another what?” I manage once I right myself.
“Uh, episode?” It comes out a question, like she’s not even sure what she’s talking about.
“Um, sure. How many have we watched now? I haven’t been keeping track.”
She frowns. “Are you not liking it?”
“No!” I say too quickly. Taking a deep breath, I urge myself to calm down, to talk naturally. “No, it’s not that. I’m actually a littletooengrossed.”
Haley studies me, looking for a fissure in my lie. It’s a partial lie, technically; Iamtoo caught up in something—just not the show.
It’s her.
Her mouth, her eyes, her gasps, her hand on my arm. I’m too distracted by it all.
“Three.”
“Three?”
“Episode three, Polly. We’re about to start four. You game?” I nod, not trusting myself to talk. “Okay. I’m going to grab some popcorn.”
I nod again as she stands, eying me suspiciously as she makes her way to her tiny kitchen. Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing while listening to her move around, opening and closing cabinets. The fridge. Setting a glass on the counter. The tink of a bowl following shortly after. The quick slaps of her feet against the tile as she races to beat the last few kernels, trying to save the popcorn from burning even the slightest bit. The shimmy of the freshly popped snack scraping against the bag as it falls into the bowl. The fridge again. I get lost in the sounds. For someone who immensely enjoys silence, I’m surprised at how immersed I am in her noises right now. Everything sounds like an intricate dance instead of someone simply grabbing a snack.
I open my eyes just as she comes into view, a bowl of popcorn tucked into her chest, held there by her forearm, and two glasses of wine occupying her hands.
She catches my glance to the second glass and shrugs. “I probably should have asked if you like wine or not. If you don’t, I’ll happily drink it.”
I sit up, grabbing the drink from her outstretched hand. “Surprisingly, I’ve never had wine.”
“Never? Not even a sip on the holidays at family dinners?”
Fidgeting, I say, “Family dinners weren’t popular around my house.”
“Oh.” I glance over at her, waiting to hear the familiarI’m sorryspeech. “How come?”
