He presses a button and speaks into the remote, “Play some creepy murder crime thingy for my girl.” He throws a teasing wink my way.
My girl. If only.
TV speakers announce, “Now playing, Don’t Fuck With Cats, on Netflix.”
He offers a devious smirk, “Is this murder-y enough to lighten the mood babycakes?”
Babycakes?
I’m so mind fucked I just shake my head and laugh. “No, I already watched this one. Hand over the remote … Sweetcheeks.”
After deciding that we’re better off not trying to come up with pet names for each other,for my sake, we decide on a three part serial killer documentary and settle into the couch across from the fireplace and TV.
I lie out on the end of the couch and stretch out my legs sideways so I can guarantee physical space from Evan. My poor brain feels like it’s going to short circuit every time he’s close to me. What I didn’t expect was Evan interpreting my accommodations as an invitation to take my fuzzy socked feet and place them on his lap. I give him a stern look at first but don’t protest further. Whenever the show gets too scary, he distracts me by rubbing my feet.
I know. Poor me.
We complete the show and move to clear out the dishes and glasses we’ve accumulated throughout the night. We clean up the kitchen quickly in silence, and somehow the ease of the night has turned into tension.
Evan literally had so many moments that could have been considered “perfect” to kiss me, and yet…NADA.
Have I hallucinated the whole day? I really must have. Because how the hell has this man had me all to himself all day, declared his feelings for me, and not made a single move?
I’m in uncharted territory. I have made it crystal clear that I am not looking for a relationship, yet I want to kiss this man as if my life depends on it.
This is where being a hopeless romantic is really biting me in the ass. I wish I could just becasualwith Evan.Pfft yeah right.
I don’t think Evan is the kind of man you walk away from unscathed.
But look at me. I’ve played it safe all my life, and look where it’s gotten me, no closer to my happy ever after and a couple thousand dollars in debt with wedding vendors.
“Knock knock,” Evan says while gently tapping his index finger on my temple. “I think I see steam coming out of your ears. What are you mulling over now woman?”
I clear my throat. “Nothing. Just tired. I’m going to head to bed. Big day tomorrow and all.” I start to turn when he grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine.
“I’ll walk you to your place,” he says with a cheeky smile.
“Are you making dad jokes now, Evan? I know this is a mansion and all, but I’m sure I could manage the sixty second walk,” I say, without making any effort to release my hand from his.
“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I just want to make sure you don’t steal my bed again,” he says with a raised brow.
“Ah I see. Poor little Evan wants to make sure that big bad Amelia doesn’t make another appearance,” I say while pouting and batting my lashes.
“I mean—actually …” he stutters.
“Well, this is me,” I say as I jerk my thumb over my shoulder to point at my bedroom door behind me.
Evan takes a deep breath and chuckles. “I had a great time tonight—”
“Wait, isn’t that supposed to be my line?” I interrupt.
Evan laughs. “Goodnight Amelia. Glad we had tonight to ourselves. Get some rest,” he says as he leans in and gives me a kiss on the forehead.
I hate my fucking forehead now.
He leans back and is about to release my hand when I squeeze it tighter. He looks down at where we are joined and then looks back up to me.
“Ok. So I was thinking. This whole kiss situation from earlier—”
