this close to her. Jesus, I feel like I’m in middle school.
She settles on some horror movie and I’m secretly hoping she gets scared. I can see her leaping into my arms, our eyes connecting and drawing us closer . . . finally leading to that kiss I’ve been thinking about nonstop. I’m sure if this were a movie, that’s probably how it would play out. But after seeing her take on all those kids today by herself, I’m sure she isn’t afraid of anything. We’re only about 20 minutes into the movie when the doorbell rings. I go to retrieve the pizza. I slip him some cash and go back to the couch, setting the food on the coffee table in front of us. She gets up and grabs some water, plates, and napkins. We both dig in while keeping our attention on the movie.
I find myself watching her more than the actual movie though. I can’t help myself. She’s far more interesting than any movie on TV. I find it cute how she watches so wide-eyed, like she can’t tear her eyes from the screen. When the music gets quiet and the screen goes dark, she worries her bottom lip. When the killer jumps out, she grabs a blanket off the back of the couch and uses it as a shield. It’s draped over her body, but she holds the edge up closer to her face, hiding her emotions.
“Are you scared?” I lean in and whisper.
“No,” she replies quickly. “Yes,” she admits soon after.
“Want to hold my hand?” I ask in a teasing tone. I hold it up, but she scoots her body up, wedging herself between the back of the couch and my side. She rests her head on my shoulder and holds the blanket just below her eyes. Her heat sinks into me and warms me in ways I didn’t know I could be warmed. She smells sweet and delicious, nearly making my mouth water thinking about actually being able to taste her. Her breathing picks up and I turn to look at her. Her eyes meet mine and I can see the fear and excitement in them. I lose myself in her eyes, unable to tell if they’re darkening due to the darkness in the room or something else.
Without thinking, I close the distance between us. My lips find hers and she sucks in a loud breath. All too quickly, she pushes me away.
“What are you doing?” she asks, shocked.
I let out a long breath, annoyed with myself. “I just thought . . .” I’m unable to finish.
“Well, you thought wrong!” She stands up and starts pacing in front of me. “We can’t let this happen. This isn’t real, remember?” She motions between us.
I’m suddenly too annoyed, so I stand up as well, with the coffee table between us. “I’m sorry. It just seemed like you were into me.”
“And how did you draw that conclusion?” It’s easy to tell by her tone of voice that she’s mad—but whether mad at me or herself, I don’t know.
“How?” I yell. “We danced last night and you didn’t act like you didn’t want me to touch you. Then today, we had a great day—we had fun together. Then when we got home, you suggested staying home, and then you put on that.” I motion toward her body.
She looks down at herself then back up at me. “Are you saying that because I dressed like this, it’s the only excuse you needed to kiss me? That I was asking for it?”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck, Poppy. I thought you were into me and giving me hints. I mean, what else is that outfit supposed to mean?”
“It’s not an outfit. I’m wearing pajamas, and it means I’m not used to living with anyone else and it’s all I have to sleep in. God . . .” Her hands move up to tangle in her hair.
“Then what’s with your eyes? Huh? The closer we’ve been getting lately, the darker they’ve been.”
“They’re my eyes! I don’t control their color.”
“I thought the color change meant you were . . . turned on or something,” I let the words fall from my mouth in a hushed tone.
She laughs.
“Look, if I have it all wrong, I’m sorry. But you have to admit you’ve been throwing me some pretty strong signals.”
“What signals?” she yells.
“Are you saying you don’t want me to kiss you?” I ask, stepping around the table. “Because if you tell me you don’t