Chapter 23
Weslyn
I reluctantly step out of the hot shower, knowing that I need to get out soon if I want to be ready in time for the movie.
I let my feet hit the plush bathroom rug and reach for the towel Kyran had left for me. I wrap it around my body and press it against my skin to dry off the rivulets of water dripping down my body before using it to dry off my hair.
I didn't answer him because he called me a nickname. Wes. I've never been called that before. Oftentimes I'm called Wesly mistakenly, but never Wes. And I also didn't know how to react knowing that I was mere feet away from him, naked in his bathroom.
I realize that I need to put a pep in my step, because I know I've been in the shower for far longer than I needed to be, but I had to make sure I washed down all my thoughts before I got out.
I reach into my suitcase to grab a new set of clothes—thank goodness I packed a variety of things since I didn't know what I needed to be prepared for.
After putting on my undergarments, I decide to step into a black tank dress, long enough to cover my knees, and pull out the jacket I brought just in case it gets chilly.
Not only that, but the sky looked like it might call for some rain, and then I find my socks and white canvas shoes, putting those on last before turning to the mirror to finish getting ready.
When I'm done, I put the rest of my things back into my suitcase—dirty clothes in my travel laundry bag—and zip it up. I take one last look at myself in the mirror before turning to leave the bathroom.
I see Kyran sitting down at the island in his kitchen, facing the big open window that looks out over the city.
As I approach, I try to keep my steps light so that I don't bother whatever seems to be on his mind, but he must hear me anyway.
He turns around and immediately jumps off the stool to greet me.
"Wow. You look beautiful," he states, and I have to hide the way his compliment makes me feel. But he catches me.
"Why do you do that?" he asks as he takes a gentle step forward. He's not asking it rudely or in an annoyed way; he's asking with genuine curiosity and even without context, I know what he's talking about. But I play dumb.
"Do what?" I ask and he shakes his head lightly and playfully.
"Shy away from my compliments. It's okay to accept them, you know.
" His tone is so gentle, but it's still coated in that deep masculinity that I've grown to love falling asleep to at nights.
Even after we hang up the phone and say our goodbyes, it's the echo of his voice in my head that allows me to fall asleep easily and peacefully.
"I don't know. I guess I just don't get very many compliments and I never really know the right way to react," I admit, and he looks at me with so much understanding in his eyes.
He takes another step toward me, and I don't move as I let him close in. The sun sets behind him, the last of the dusky, peach colored rays of light falling behind the cover of the New York buildings, causing for the light effect in his apartment to create an elusive, intimate moment.
He doesn't respond to my confession but rather looks up and down over me like he did earlier.
"Why'd you call me Wes back there?" I decide to ask him so that I can eliminate any chance for awkwardness or for my nerves to come shaking back.
"When?"
"When you dropped the towel for me?" I hook my thumb toward the bathroom.
"Oh, I- I guess I didn't even realize I did." he says as he reaches over for his wallet and keys off the entry table.
"It's no biggie," I say as I swing my jacket behind my shoulders and fit my arms through. "I've just never been given a nickname before."
I see the way Kyran's jaw ticks at my words, almost like he's grinding down to prevent himself from saying something he thinks he shouldn't. It causes me to wonder what he's thinking but I don't do much to push him on it.
Instead, I let him guide me as he places his hand at the small of my back; a gesture that is entirely too inappropriate given the way my body reacts to him. But I bite the inside of my cheek in hopes that I don't make a peep, not wanting to give myself away.
"Ready?" he asks, and I simply nod my head and follow him out the door.
We find our seats in the theater, and to our surprise, there aren't very many people here. We only missed about half of the opening previews so by the time we get popcorn and some drinks, we're finding our seats just in time with the start of the movie.
"An empty theater must mean the movie isn't that great," I whisper as the lights dim all the way dark.
"Almost empty," he states, noting the few others scattered about and I can tell he's trying to maintain optimism since this was a movie of my choosing.
Our seats happen to be the furthest back, so no one is sitting behind us. I don't question his choice in seating because full or not, I would have likely chosen the same section. The further back, the better. I love scary movies, but I also get scared easily. So this was the best choice.
Kyran pops out one of the other tables from the seat next to him and places the popcorn there. We place our drinks in the holders on either side of us and for some awkward reason, we just sit and stare ahead.
We get into these little bouts of awkwardness, and I think it's to be expected.
But I do try to figure out how to avoid falling too deeply into them because in all honesty, all I want to do is talk to Kyran.
I want to know more about him and listen to him speak.
I think I retreat sometimes because I don't want to seem too clingy or needy and even though we've talked to each other nearly every day for the past almost month, I worry he'll get sick of me.
"I just want to give you a heads up," I start, swallowing down my fear of annoying him. I can hardly make out his features as he turns to look at me. "I do scare fairly easily." I cover my mouth with my hand as if to shield everyone else from hearing me.
I hear him chuckle under his breath before he holds his hand out in the air next to me. "This is here for you when you need it," he says and then places his hand palm down over his jean-clad thigh.
Suddenly, I feel that rush of nerves again, but this time it's a burst of warmth in my core as I realize what he means.
Hold his hand when I get scared.
The thought does silly, ridiculous things to me and I feel juvenile for the way my cheeks blush, imagining his hand in mine. But I don't have time to let that image settle too much before the first jump scare has me damn near jumping out of my seat.
My hand flies to my heart and the other covers my mouth to prevent myself from screaming.
"Are you okay?" Kyran asks as he turns to me and I just nod my head, trying not to feel embarrassed.
"It was just the movie production intro, Wes. The movie hasn't even started yet," I realize that as the title starts to roll in afterward and I mentally curse myself before I let out a laugh.
"I told you . . . I scare easily."
I don't expect him to do anything other than laugh or turn to focus on the movie, but when he moves his hand to lift up the arm rest between us and scoots a little closer to me, my heart starts to pick up pace and my body starts to flood with goosebumps.
How can one person be so hot and so cold at the same time?
Because while my body is reactive to the chill that swims across my skin, there's heat pooling between my legs and I have to squeeze my thighs tighter to keep myself from feeling it too much.
He's just so close. His scent. The way his arm brushes mine. Too close.
But I do my best to keep my mind trained on the movie and out of the gutter, though I conclude the task to be harder done than said as I find myself leaning into him with each lead up to the next jump scare.
It's not purposeful, but it happens and an hour and half into the movie I don't even realize I have reached for his hand now squeezing it as something scary pops up on the screen.
"Ahh!" I scream, leaning further into him and damn near crushing his hand in mine.
He chuckles at me but doesn't pull away. He lets me use him as a shield and when the screen goes black, I sit up.
"Wait, that's it?" I ask, feeling confused by the sudden ending.
The lights start to brighten back to life while simultaneously, the ending credits start to roll through but not before the screen presents an announcement for the movie.
TO BE CONTINUED…
"You've got to be kidding me," I say under my breath. "I didn't know this was a two-part movie!" I exclaim.
Kyran can't help but to chuckle at me again as he helps me out of my seat.
I turn to him and say, "I hate being edged." And then I pause, seeing that his hand is still in mine. I look up at him and he's already looking down at me.
His eyes are crowding me, closing me in and I start to feel my hand get sweaty in his.
"Is that so?" he asks in a darkly flirtatious tone, and I question it for a second before I realize the meaning behind what I said.
"I mean cliff hangers. I hate being left on a cliff hanger." I clarify, blushing again.
We stand in the aisle for what seems like minutes, and maybe it is. But I look around to see the small handful of people who had watched the movie with us have already left the theater and furthermore, I note that neither of us touched the popcorn or our drinks.
"Wow, I didn't mean to be so wasteful," I say as I lean over and grab the full cup.
"It happens. We were both hyper focused," he defends as he snatches up the uneaten bag of popcorn and the other drink, causing us to have to let go of where our hands were connected.
I miss the warmth, because for a while I didn't even realize I'd reached for his hand. But now that it's gone, I want it back.
We both head out of the theater, silence upon us as we reach the trash cans and toss our wasted snacks. As he leads us out of the movie theater, the wind from outside approaches us and I feel the chill immediately upon exiting.
"Damn, it got cold," I say as I pull my jacket tighter over my chest.
"Here," Kyran says when I see that he's taking off his own zip-up hoodie, leaving him in just his white V-neck t-shirt, and offering it to me.
I have to avert my gaze out into the street to avoid staring at his arms or his chest or just him in general.
"Oh, no. I'm fine. The walk to the car isn't far." I decline the jacket, but he insists.
"Take it, Weslyn." It sounds kind of like a demand but I know he doesn't mean it that way, or with any aggression at all. So I grab the jacket and let it cover me, wrapping it around the back of my shoulders and pulling it closed, not putting my arms through or zipping it up.
As we walk to the car, I notice the lights all around us.
The moon can't be seen over the towering buildings but there's still so much light everywhere, coming from the flashing billboards and the pretty lighting from some of the stores around us.
We get to the crosswalk and wait for a clear signal to cross over to the parking garage, and while we wait, I decide to take a spontaneous risk.
I pull one of my hands out from under the jacket I'm holding together and reach for Kyran's hand.
He looks down at me as I snake my fingers between his. "Is this okay?" I ask, not entirely wanting the consent and more so just wanting to be bold, but again, I get nervous.
"Or course it is," he says as he squeezes my hand gently in his and leads us through the crosswalk and back toward his car.