11. #3
“I’m serious.” He looks at me over his shoulder, and my cheeks heat like the surface of the sun under his attention. “I… may have invited myself over here because I was trying to avoid something.”
He shifts then, and he’s suddenly closer. One big shoulder practically nestled against my breastbone. I pray he can’t feel my heart pick up speed. “Avoid what?”
I turn him away again and press the ice more firmly against his skin, as if that might contain him. “The house.”
“Your grandmother’s house? Seems like it would be hard to avoid when you’re staying there.”
“It’s surprisingly not.” I gesture to his living room, my current escape.
“And not just now, I mean over the last two years. It used to be my favorite place, and now…” It feels like a pair of pants that don’t fit right anymore.
Uncomfortable when it used to be like a second skin.
“I can’t bring myself to stay inside those walls for longer than I have to, which I know is counter-productive to my whole reason for being here. ”
“I thought you were here for work.”
Right . I did sort of make it seem that way. “It’s complicated.”
“How mysterious.”
“Sorry, it’s just kind of embarrassing. I work freelance right now, but there’s a permanent position up for grabs. My boss said she wants to give it to me, except I have to do some work on myself first. So I came here to do it.”
“What kind of work?” he asks, and I immediately wish I hadn’t started down this road with him, a virtual stranger. But I also really like the way he’s said this, incredulous on my behalf. The way Kate had been. All I’ve felt about it so far is tired and blank and stressed.
I stare at the back of his neck, chewing on my words. I suppose I’ve been privy to some pretty intimate details of Jamie’s life. And in my vision, I saw myself being far more vulnerable with him than this minor confession.
“I’ve been having trouble feeling things.”
“Like…” He gestures to his temple, teasing the psychic elephant between us, and I manage a laugh.
“No. Like regular things. It’s affecting my designs. My job. My Nana passed two months ago, and I haven’t cried. It’s weird right? I mean, she was eighty, and she hadn’t been really here for two years. It wasn’t exactly tragic, but… it was tragic to me.”
As soon as they’re out, I wish I could gather the words back. I might as well have just handed him a note that said: Psst , careful . This one’s a little broken.
“Noel,” he says, turning toward me again. The ice pack falls away from his ribs, and I tut at him, pretending to fuss with fitting it back under his sweatshirt.
“Sorry,” I say. “Ugh. That was… too much.”
“It wasn’t.”
I look up and those deep dark eyes are back on mine.
There goes that spinning top again. “Come on,” I say.
“I can’t reach.” I set my hand to the base of his neck, squeezing slightly to reposition him.
The muscles there are like granite, strung tight in the way mine sometimes get in the winter, when my shoulders are forever up near my ears to ward off the cold.
I dig my thumb a little harder, and this time his head flops backward, his hair tickling my chin. “ Fuuuck . Can you keep doing that?”
“Someone’s easy,” I joke, but on a real note, I think he might crave this fussing on a cellular level.
He’s practically purring at my touch, his body going completely lax beneath my fingers.
“Did you decide to store every stress you’ve ever had in this spot right here or did it land there on its own? ”
He laughs quietly. “I’m just not used to lying around on this couch all day. I didn’t realize how badly I was jacking up the rest of my body.”
“Well, you need to stretch more. Maybe on the way to the freezer to get ice.”
“Maybe.” He shifts his hips so they’re square, putting more weight on me. “You know, I get what you mean about loving something but also feeling oppressed by it. I feel that way about this whole city sometimes. Like it knows me as someone I’m not anymore, and I’m trying to get used to the new fit.”
“What does it know you as?” I ask quietly.
“I wasn’t a well-behaved kid. Teenager.” He winces. “Early adult.”
“In what way?”
“Nothing that went on my permanent record or anything. I got into trouble at school. And out of school.”
I’m quiet, watching my thumb press into his skin.
It feels as though this confession of his is pressing back.
The guilt in his voice doesn’t entirely match my first impressions of Jamie—carefree, a little daredevilish.
His confidence has done nothing but shake mine since we met, but something new starts to come into focus behind that cocky, easy-going vibe.
A vulnerability he’s showing me. I have to swallow against a sudden rush of affection for it.
“And then what?” I ask, softening the stroke of my thumb to a caress of his hairline. Something meant to comfort. “You left your wicked ways behind and grew up to be a successful businessman?”
He waits a long time before deciding on, “Something like that.”
I’m warned off of prying any more when he tosses me a grin over his shoulder that feels like a curtain being swung shut.
“Well, then,” I say lightly, letting him off this hook he’s hung himself on for my benefit. Solely to make me feel understood. “You get why I needed to get out of there tonight.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“See? Even trade. Now stay still.”
He settles his shoulder into the couch cushion, and I press the ice back into place. He’s quiet for so long, I think maybe he’s finally found enough relief to sleep. But then his scratchy, quiet voice cuts through the easy silence. “Do you want to stay and watch a movie with me?”
“Yeah.” I smile at the back of his head. “I do.”