Chapter 3 Mickey #2
Instinctively, I reach for her, and we get into position.
Viv and I like a lot of different positions, but when we watch TV, this is one of our faves.
I’m sitting on one side of the couch while she’s sprawled out on the other, with her feet dangling over the side and her head cradled in the pillow on my lap.
The pillow is key. Not only is it a must for comfort, it’s also a necessary barrier.
Look, I can’t help it, okay? The girl is hot as hell and when she’s cuddled up on me in her teensy tiny pajamas, I react.
Well, my dick reacts. And I’ve got to keep that monster under wraps, so a thick, fluffy pillow is a necessity.
I hand Viv the remote and she clicks her way through the screens until she gets to Diary of a Killer, the show we were watching last semester. I drape my arm along the back of the couch, lean my head back, and wait for the theme music to start.
But it never does.
“You feel like watching something else?” I ask, tipping my face down to look at her.
She shakes her head back and forth. (See, I told you that the pillow was necessary. And we haven’t even got to the scary parts yet. That’s when she gets really cuddly.)
Viv’s eyes are wide as she looks up at me. “It’s still on episode five. That’s where we left off before Christmas break.”
“Yeah, I know.” My memory might be like a slice of Swiss cheese for some things, but I do remember exactly where we left off in our favorite show.
“You didn’t watch the last three episodes?” she asks.
“Hell, no. I wasn’t going to watch them without you,” I answer. The smile that blooms on her face does funny things to my heart.
Viv’s still beaming when she hits Play. “You, Brannon Patrick Mikalski, are a gem.”
I’m a fucking mess is what I am, but if Viv wants to see the best in me, I’m not going to stop her.
Hell, in a couple months, it won’t matter that I’m a wreck.
Yeah, we’ll still see each other when we both visit Maggie and JT on the West Coast, and we’ll both be there for Calla’s birthdays and recitals and stuff.
But we won’t see each other on the daily anymore, and as crappy as that is, at least that means I won’t be forced to look at Viv and admit what a loser I am.
I won’t have to see her reaction when she finds out I’ve got to stay in school for an extra year, or that I dropped out because what the fuck am I going to do with a degree in exercise science anyway?
The thoughts in my head are so loud, I’m surprised she can’t hear them. But I’m also glad.
The show starts and we descend into a comfortable silence.
Some people would tell you that I’m not capable of being quiet for more than about two minutes at a time, and those people might have a point.
But I’m not feeling much like myself tonight, so instead of bugging Viv with my usual slew of questions she can’t answer because she hasn’t watched the episode yet, either, I keep quiet and watch the show like a normal person.
The screen is filled with images of the murderer’s bedroom and all the creepy pictures he took of his victims before and after he killed them.
Viv pauses the show and I’m expecting her to point something out, like a clue or something.
She’s smart like that. She turns back toward me and puts her hand on my cheek.
I’ve got a few days’ worth of scruff going, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Everything okay, Mickey?” she asks, her voice soft in the darkened room.
“Huh?” It takes a second for her words to register. She didn’t stop the show so she could sleuth out a detail. She stopped it because I’m not acting like myself.
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’m good.”
“That’s a load of bullshit,” she replies matter-of-factly.
She’s right, but I just can’t spill my guts right now, especially to Viv. She’d never judge me, but still. The girl has got her shit together in ways I never will. I don’t get it. She’s as explosive and energized as I am, but she’s not failing at life. I’m in awe and jealous at the same time.
“I just…I don’t know,” I say. “Nothing’s really wrong, but nothing’s really right, either. I’m just not feeling like myself today. It’s like all my energy has been drained. I don’t think that’s ever happened before. I guess I just need a little time to recharge. Sorry. I’m probably bad company. I—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” she says, her tone firm.
Not gonna lie, I kinda like it. Before I can think of other things she might say to me in that commanding voice, her face softens as she brushes her thumb along my jaw.
“Mickey, you never have to be anything but yourself around me. Never. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” I tell her honestly. That’s one of the things I love most about Viv. She takes me just the way I am.
“There are no expectations here, okay? You can talk my ear off or stay quiet all night. Whatever you need.” She’s still caressing the edge of my jaw and when she pulls away, I want to wrap my fingers around her wrist and put her hand back where it belongs. I don’t, but I want to.
“Well, there might be one expectation,” she tells me as she settles her head back on the pillow and picks up the remote.
“What’s that?” I ask, knowing I’ll do just about anything she asks. And when she shakes her head and lets her hair fan all over my lap, I know exactly what she wants.
I thread my fingers through the soft strands of her hair and start twisting pieces together.
I’m not a trained professional like my twin sister, but I know Viv loves it when I play with her hair, and truthfully, I like it, too.
There’s something calming about the repetitive motion, something soothing about the feel of her silky hair in my hands.
We stay like this as the rest of the show plays out.
None of my problems have been solved. That damn letter is still in my drawer, and the Academic Affairs office is still closed for the day.
I’m still a damn basket case. But here in the dim light of my room, with Viv cuddled up next to me, I don’t feel like the wreck that I know I am. And that feels pretty damn good.