Chapter 14
Logan
When she came to stand next to me, popcorn bowls in hand, my heart expanded.
I knew it was her version of an apology for being bitchy earlier.
When she then agreed to join me on the couch, under the blanket, my heart did a flip.
She was now cozied up next to me, our bodies dangerously close to one another, our bowls balanced on our laps, as we watched Dune, the movie.
I lied and told her I hadn’t seen it yet.
It made it easier for me to concentrate on the fact that she was so close to me; I didn’t have to focus on the movie.
“I love Timothee Chalamet, don’t you?” she asked.
I’d never really thought about it, but I did like him in this movie. And I loved the smile he put on her face.
“He’s good at what he does, yeah.”
When I learned Macie would be gone for the weekend, so many thoughts ran through my mind. But of course, the most important one of all: we were alone.
That brought me to what I was feeling next.
Nervous as hell. The flip my heart did converted to butterflies in my stomach the size of atlas moths, flopping around, fighting for space.
Every time she reached into her bowl, her elbow hit my arm.
When she adjusted herself under the blanket, her bare legs aligned with mine, the warmth of them burning through my sweatpants.
It seemed we both were willing to put aside our differences for the time being. I wasn’t sure why, maybe to extend an olive branch for the sake of our night alone. Or maybe we were tired of being mean to one another.
As it played on the screen, the only thing we talked about was the movie. We ignored all the big elephants in the room. We ignored how we’ve been treating one another since we’ve met. We ignored why we’ve been treating one another that way. We ignored all the huge emotions we’ve both been feeling.
And maybe that was OK. Maybe this wasn’t the time for talking.
“I have to pee,” she said, peeling the blanket from us. “Can you pause it?”
As I reached for the remote, I caught a glimpse of the tiny sleep shorts she was wearing, that nice curve of the lower part of her ass hanging out from the bottom. My eyes watched her sway across the entire room until the bathroom door closed.
Fuck. I hurried to adjust my swollen dick before she returned.
Our bowls of corn were almost empty, so I dumped mine into hers just as I heard the flush of the toilet. By looking at my phone, I forced myself to not watch her walk back.
She grabbed the remote as she climbed back under the blanket, as if we’d been doing this together every weekend this semester.
She made it seem so…normal for us. Meanwhile, every breath was a struggle, and I had no idea where we even were in the movie.
All I could focus on was the next time some part of her was going to touch me again.
“Where’s my popcorn?” she asked.
“Not much left, thought it made sense to combine them.”
She didn’t appear to think much of it. But as she reached into the bowl, her hand brushed against mine and her eyes pivoted from the screen. She stared into the bowl, both our hands frozen.
“Sorry,” I said.
Our eyes connected. And for the first time since meeting this spitfire, pain in the ass, gorgeous goddess, her eyes held true warmth in them as she looked at me.
“It’s OK.” But then she yanked her hand out of the bowl as if it ignited from my touch.
She went back to watching the movie, but it was futile for me. All I could think about was touching her.
I felt on the brink of my fantasies coming true, but I didn’t want to fuck it up. I felt like that could happen so easily with her and her temperamental ways. I never knew if I’d have Tink or Ava.
So far, Ava was sitting next to me.
Suddenly, the lights flickered a few times. As we stared around the house, waiting to see what would happen, the TV went fuzzy.
“Lost the cable,” I said.
We both raced to the closest window, pulling up the shade to check outside.
“Holy shit,” she cried. “How much is that already?”
Checking for something in the backyard to gauge the amount of snow we’d gotten, I could only use the door of the opposing townhouse.
“I’d say over eight inches already.”
The sky glowed bright orange from the moon trying to fight through the snow-filled clouds. In the distance, there was a flash of light that grabbed our attention.
“Was that what I think it was?” Ava asked.
“Lightning, looks like we’re in for some thunder snow,” I told her.
Her head jerked toward me at my words, disbelief all over her face. She reached out, her hand on my shoulder, turning me to face her.
“Thunder snow? What the hell are you talking about?”
I was speechless as her hand remained on my arm. I wanted to pull her close, wrap my arms around her tiny waist, and bring her mouth to mine.
But the fear of Tink making an appearance, of Ava truly hating me, and completely misreading the little clues I thought I picked up on this past week paralyzed me.
Instead, I went back to examining the impending storm.
“Yeah, you’ve never heard of thunder snow? It doesn’t happen often, but it happens. Could mean we might have a power outage.” I started pulling away from the window. “Maybe I should look for some candles, just in case.”
Ava held me in place, her brilliant green eyes gazing at me through long dark lashes.
“We can do that in a minute,” she said, her voice a bit husky. “Let’s keep watching the snow. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
She leaned against the windowsill, her chin in her hands, as her breath left a cloud on the glass.
“It is,” I said, but only looked at her.
The temptation to touch her was unrelenting, and my hands trembled at my sides.
My thoughts were consumed with everything about her: the slope of her neck as her head tilted up to look at the snow; the way wisps of her dark hair fell across her forehead; the tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose; the sparkle of her nose ring; the hole above her eyebrow where a brow ring once was; the pink of her full lips as she licked them.
“I can feel you staring at me,” she said.
“Sorry, Ava.”
She suddenly turned toward me and smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“I like when you use my name,” she said, “and not that awful nickname.” Her smile faltered somewhat as her gaze returned to the falling snow.
I knew Tink bothered her, and I guess at a point that was the intention.
“I like the nickname I have for you.”
Her head slowly swiveled, her cheek laying on her arms folded on the sill. We had resorted to kneeling on the floor below the window for comfort.
“Really?” she asked, the sarcasm thick.
“One of the things I like most about you, and at the same time pisses me off, is your sassy attitude. I don’t think you’d be you without it, Ava. You shouldn’t change for anyone.”
Her drilling look made me self-conscious, and I looked away, staring out the window again.
“You’re a strong person, and that’s good, that’s important, especially for a woman. Yeah, you’re exactly the way you should be.”
Looking back, I noticed a pink flush dotted her cheeks and found its way down to her chest. She remained quiet and still as she continued to survey the snow, which had increased in its tenacity.
“It’s really coming down out there now,” I said, gesturing outside. “Since we’ve been at the window, I’d say another inch fell. What do you think?”
She didn’t answer me as she remained unmoving, stoic.
“I’m sorry,” she said, out of nowhere.
“What?” I asked. “For what?”
Ava got up from the floor and made her way back to the couch.
Her emerald eyes looked up at me once she sat, beckoning me to join her as she patted the cushion next to her.
I joined her, attempting to cover us with the blanket.
But she pulled back, needing space it seemed, sitting with crossed legs in the corner of the couch.
She sat quietly, and I didn’t push her to talk. If I was going to get an apology out of her, I’d give her the time she needed.
“Well,” she started, then stopped. Those green eyes looked everywhere but at me.
Her teeth fiddled with her lip ring, something I noticed she did when nervous.
“I’ve been kinda mean, wouldn’t ya say? So, I’m sorry for how I’ve been, how I’ve treated you.
It’s not who I am to be like that, and it’s really been bothering me that I’ve been doing it. ”
Once she was done talking, her eyes settled on mine. Hers glistened with the start of unshed tears, that beginning moisture that builds up. It’s truly amazing how hearing her say sorry and seeing her almost cry made the past month of me wanting to hate her vanish.
Gone. Instantly.
I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and tell her everything would be OK.
Instead, I chose to encourage more discussion.
“Do you know why? Did I do something?” I asked.
“No,” she insisted, her head shaking emphatically. “Well, not exactly…”
Crack.
There was a bolt of lightning and a loud boom of thunder and the room went black.
“Oh shit!” we both yelled.
“Christ, it’s dark in here,” Ava said.
“Let me get my phone.” Once my phone light lit the room, I could see the panic on her face. “You good?”
“Not a fan of no power, to be honest,” she said. “I have some candles in my room, I should go get them.”
She started to get up, but I held my hand out to stop her.
“You stay, I’ll get them. Where are they?”
After putting her phone light on for her, I raced up the stairs to retrieve two candles and a lighter from her desk. I also grabbed some extra blankets from both our rooms, unaware of how long we’d be without power or heat.
“Here we go,” I said once I returned. As I lit them, the room took on an ethereal glow combined with the brightness coming from the snow through the windows. “Turn off your phone, conserve its battery.”
I covered her with a blanket, then returned to my side of the couch.
“We don’t have to keep talking about, ya know, what we were before. I appreciate the apology, Ava, I do. Thank you.”