Chapter Eleven
They drove in silence back to his place.
Though it wasn’t of the uncomfortable kind.
She didn’t feel the urge to fill it with babble for a single second for the first time in her life.
It was too peaceful for that, too full of contentment.
Like they’d both finally eaten something wholly satisfying after years of nothing but thin and unappetizing gruel.
He even looked that way when she glanced across at him.
There was this slight but constant lift to his lips, just at one corner. Mild amusement on anyone else. But sheer joy on a man who rarely seemed to even know what happiness was. And his eyes, oh, his eyes. They were on the road, but she could see they were somewhere else at the same time.
They’d gone a little foggy, a softer blue, clear even from the side.
The sight made her just about melt into her seat.
She couldn’t even stop herself from imagining he was thinking about their date that wasn’t a date.
Heck, it felt like it had been one now. Like he’d forgotten all about his ideal woman, his perfect girl waiting for him somewhere else, and had started thinking about her.
And doubly so when they got to his dirt-patch driveway, and the first words out of his mouth were: “So, did you enjoy yourself?” No how did I do, no thank you for the advice . Nothing, in fact, that suggested it hadn’t been real. Or at least real enough that he could imagine her liking it.
It made her answer unguardedly.
“I enjoyed it so much I’d be saying yes to coffee now, if a real date asked,” she said with what she knew immediately was too much excitement in her voice. She knew it was. She knew what it sounded like, too.
Yet somehow he just looked at her steadily.
“Maybe I should go ahead and do that, then,” he said.
And she couldn’t really mistake what he meant.
Though she tried to.
“What do you mean? Do what?”
“Ask you if you want to.”
“Yeah, but not really, though. I mean, you don’t mean really.”
“Well, sure, really. Why wouldn’t it be really? Come on, come inside,” he said.
Then he got out of the truck and started toward his home.
She couldn’t immediately follow him, however.
She could only watch, speechless, as he crossed the clearing and walked up onto his front porch.
Because of course it was possible he was still thinking only of practicing things.
But now that idea was kind of hanging on by a thread.
And even if it hadn’t been, even if he was still fully just trying to get a handle on things, well…
was there really much difference with something like this?
You started in on how to seduce someone, and the likelihood was you were going to be seduced.
She already felt seduced, and nothing had even really happened.
He’d barely touched her. They’d hardly said a sexy thing to each other.
It was all just emotional confessions and cathartic conversations and the occasional brush of his arm against hers.
Yet she crossed the clearing to his front porch on shaky legs, heart trembling in her chest, cheeks flushed.
She wasn’t even sure how she was going to get up the porch steps. And especially once she got to them, and there he was, just patiently waiting for her. Face a mess of concern. “Lemme just lift you across this thing,” he said as she went for the second step.
Then he just reached forward and offered her his hands.
Don’t , she told herself. But her body stepped between them before the word was even fully there.
Like a reflex, keyed only to him. If he was the one wanting to put his hands on her waist, her waist wanted to be there.
Her whole self wanted him to lift it. And god, the way it felt when he did.
She made a sound without even meaning to; thought of being on a swing as a kid with someone pushing her until it felt like she could touch the moon.
Then he gathered her to him and almost carried her over the threshold.
Like a bride , she thought a moment before he set her down.
So now that was in her head, just as her little heels touched the floor.
Those hands still on her waist, that body of his so close to hers, his gaze on her upturned face.
It wasn’t a shock that she felt even more breathless than she had a second ago.
Or that she was trembling so much that he actually noticed.
“Sorry, that was a little vigorous, I guess,” he said. “I don’t know my own strength, sometimes—especially around such small, fragile things. Probably should have put you down on the couch, too. Here, let me…”
He gestured, in lieu of finishing the sentence.
Guided her a little in the direction of that collapsing piece of furniture.
Only it didn’t seem as bad now. It looked plump, cared for, inviting.
She sat down and sank right in, to the point where her shoes left the floor.
None of which seemed like a problem, particularly.
Until he finished brewing coffees, and set them on the table, and sat next to her.
Quite far from her, respectfully far. But the thing was, the couch wasn’t really designed for his size.
It buckled immediately, and slid him toward the center.
Then of course she slid, too. All the way down to him, like someone caught in a landslide.
He didn’t really seem to mind, though.
Or, at least, he didn’t move once she was pressed against his side. He just looked down at her, wedged there, in a way that had her half expecting him to just go for it. While the other half expected nothing more than a request for a whiteboard demonstration. How to seduce someone , she thought.
But it wasn’t any easier on her when he went somewhere in between the two. “So, what’s supposed to happen now? We drink it?” he asked in this oddly hoarse voice. He had to clear his throat on the end.
Plus she noticed he wasn’t looking at her.
He stared straight ahead, at those two mugs.
None of which helped her decide what to say.
“You can if you want. But I wouldn’t usually.”
“Then you’d just want to talk some more.”
“Sure. That would probably be a part of coming in for coffee.”
“And the other parts would be what? What would you do then?”
Watch you tear off all my clothes , she thought. Or tear off all of yours . And only caught herself by the skin of her teeth. “I don’t know. You could put on a movie, maybe. Something you like, to show her who you are as a person. And all the better if it’s something soft and romantic.”
She gestured at his small, boxy, old-fashioned television, propped atop a couple of milk crates in this oddly familiar way. Then expected him to hesitate a little. Like he had when she first got him to admit what kind of movies he liked.
Only he didn’t.
He glanced at his overflowing collection, and almost immediately launched into a suggestion.
“Okay, I think I got just the thing. It’s about a guy, and he meets this girl.
And he thinks she’s ordinary. But actually, she’s got a secret.
A big secret that makes her kind of weird, and means that she doesn’t know how to do simple human things.
Only, see, he doesn’t care about that, he loves her anyway.
In fact, she drives him nuts. He can’t keep his hands off her.
Like, it doesn’t even matter, he just wants to touch her,” he said, so engrossed in this description that he didn’t even notice her melting beside him.
He spelled it out to the air in front of himself, all animated and adamant about it, while she slowly, slowly realized which movie he was talking about.
Splash , she thought. That was absolutely Splash .
He was talking about a man falling in love with a mermaid.
Though it was more than that, and she knew it. It was about him. It was about his love for something that said in no uncertain terms: You can be weird, and someone will still love you. They’ll still find you attractive, and want to touch you, and be touched by you.
It was the reason she put a hand over his.
Half fearful about it, but she did. And in answer, he went very still. Then his gaze dropped to that small bit of bodily contact. “Is this also something that happens with the coffee?” he asked after a long and pretty agonizing silence. Gaze on her small hand over his the whole time.
In fact, he didn’t even look up on those words.
Like the shock of her touch held him in place.
“If you mean hand-holding, then I guess, yeah.”
“And you don’t mind doing that with me.”
“I don’t see why I would.”
“Well, maybe if I turned mine like this…” he said, and as he trailed off he did as he was suggesting. He slid his hand around until she wasn’t touching the back anymore. She was touching the palm. And his fingers were almost gripping hers.
“That would also be good with me. That would be pretty normal,” she said.
While thinking about how not normal it was making her feel.
Her heart felt like trapped thunder in her chest.
“Okay, so what else would be, though?” he asked. “Normal, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Putting your arm around me, maybe.”
“And I’m just supposed to do that? Without even yawning first?”
Like some teenager would do in a movie , she thought.
Everything he knows is from movies . Though all that idea did was make everything seem even sweeter.
Not to mention even more filled with crackling tension than it already was.
She felt as if she was bursting with suggestions that seemed too greedy and lustful to make.
Instead of the small and more reasonable things she knew she should go with.
“I mean, you could yawn if you wanted to. But I don’t think you have to.”
“Then tell me what you would expect. Tell me what you’d like to see.”
“I don’t know. Something like this, I guess.”