21 #3
He snaked a hand up my shirt faster than I could complete the lie.
I cackled and held it there longer than necessary.
My insides flipped violently at the merest brush of his fingers, sending shivers down my legs.
He withdrew with a victor’s laugh, having discovered I was sufficiently weak enough to torment at leisure.
What I couldn’t get over was the promise.
The promise in that action of more to come.
Like he’d been reclaiming territory lost in a raid. Reassessing my boundaries.
"I'd offer you another drink, but I remember how much of a lightweight you are—"
"Mate, I'd drink you under a table any day."
“Yeah, okay.”
Hooking my head back onto the back of the couch, I stared at the bizarre painting on the opposite wall.
"Where'd you get it?"
"Local artist," he muttered, sipping his drink, which he then rested on his chest. "Mila, got it for me."
"It's sick. What is it?"
"Fuck if I know. It's abstract. You tell me."
"Seashore?"
"Could be...or a field maybe? Basically, I think you might be able to see whatever you fancy."
"Like a Rorschach test or something."
"Exactly." After a while he asked, "Y'hungry?"
"Not really."
"Just let me know when." After some time he ventured, "D’you remember what you said to me the first time we kissed?"
He was on the brink of referencing our lovemaking.
The back of my tongue went numb. The question was out of bounds—wildly so.
Like a priest drawing back the curtain on a confessional and looking me square in the eye.
Was he trying to relieve me? Like prying open the door to a room that had flooded neck-deep in his absence.
I’d been struggling to stay afloat in the steep surf of our past, but now he’d gone out of his way to reassure me, he was never as unburdened as he’d seemed.
I remembered saying something unforgivably cringy that day. I covered my face with a groan, but he pulled my fingers away.
"You do remember, don’t you?"
"Mate, of course."
"Say it."
"Don't make me..."
"C'mon, Rafe, just say it."
I covered my face again. "I can't feel my legs."
He laughed and blew a raspberry on the hand covering my eyes. I nearly panicked when his lips touched my flesh, but managed to play it off.
"Oh, mate, that was the cutest shit! You looked terrified."
"I was."
"We were sat there afterwards, just talkin'. Like it was normal."
"Till it got dark. Then we left because I saw a centipede."
"I wasn't even turned on or anythin'..." he said with a contemplative pause.
"I just…wanted to kiss ya, I think. You looked so pretty.
Your cheeks were all rosy…and your eyes were...
" He trailed off, marveling at the memory.
"Bluer than anything I’d ever seen. And your smile... simply gorgeous. Still is."
Too much was being untombed. For the life of me, I couldn’t bear it. My heart thundered up my throat in the wake of his sweet surrender of our pretense.
"Were you turned on afterwards?" I asked.
"No, believe it or not. You were so scared that it scared me. I thought I'd done somethin' wrong."
"No, of course not. I loved it. Every second of it. I just didn't know what to do next. And it’s crazy to think…that if you hadn’t done that then we—fuck’s sake, I don’t think we would’ve ever…”
"Strange times."
"Yeah…" I eyed his hands, noting the manicured nails and traces of clear polish. "Sometimes I wish I could feel that way again, y’know? My body was always on fire. Burning for you. It was all so new and exhilarating…”
He took ahold of my hand to play with my fingers. My guts were in knots. Violent, clenching spasms that made me frightfully queasy. We were edging back still, to what we were. The casual touching was a game-changer.
“I remember feeling so obsessed with what you were thinking all the time," I breathed.
"Yeah…you too.”
"What were you thinking? Around that time?"
"Too much, honestly."
My phone rang. "Shit," I growled upon checking it.
"What’s up?"
"I completely forgot I needed to reschedule the doctor’s. Em said the only available walk-in was today."
"Em?"
"Executive assistant…extraordinaire—"
"Ah..." he grinned. "So, uh...you gotta head out then?"
"I guess so. Fuck’s sake."
"I’ll come." He gently took ahold of my fingers again.
"Really?"
"If I’m honest, I'm not ready for you to leave. I could ride with…and we could keep catchin' up on the drive, if you’d like? Grab somethin to eat afterwards?"
That he cared enough to join me on such a mundane task made me grin uncontrollably.
"That works, actually. I'd appreciate that."
"Yep, my pleasure.”
He cleared our mess. After joining me at the side door, running a hand through his hair, he asked, "Should I drive?"
"Hell no! You're gonna ride the clutch. That's all you ever do." He shoved me in the back.
"Hey, I learned a thing or two about sticks recently."
"Recently?!" I scoffed. "You should've known already! That's all we ever drive back home."
"Yeah, but I never had to drive back then, now did I?"
"And they say self-sufficiency’s dead."
“This thing is sickkk, man! C'mon, Rafe, let me have a go, yeah?"
I tossed him the keys without hesitation. His excitement was too adorable to quelch.
"Rome, look at me, alright?" We faced each other over the roof of the car. He had a mischievous grin in place. "You better fooking listen, mate. If I see you riding the clutch, or missing a single gear, I'm gonna kill you!"