Inhale, Exhale - By Sarah M. Ross Page 0,27
and removed his hand from my wrist to give me a napkin. My hand felt cold without his touch, and I wanted it back.
“So, Jillian, have you ever bowled before?” a girl I recognized from the accounting department asked. It reminded me that we were not alone at this booth, and an embarrassed flush rose to my cheeks.
“Yeah, a few times when I was a kid. It’s been years though. I hope I don’t hurt y’alls record tonight or anything.” I played with the straw in my cup to keep my hands occupied.
“Nah,” Grant reassured me. I turned to him when he spoke, and saw the slightest amount of longing in his eyes. Or maybe it was only my own reflected back at me. “We only play for fun. We’ve had the worst record in the league for two years running. You could score negative tonight and it wouldn’t hurt us any.”
“Oh please, Grant,” the girl spoke up. “You haven’t been to a league night in over two months. I’m surprised you could grace us with your presence tonight. What, you got tired of living like a shut-in?”
Grant’s jaw tightened, and there was a slight twitch of his pierced eyebrow. “I’ve been busy with school, Denise. You know, finishing my Masters? But you wouldn’t know anything about that, what with you dropping out and getting your GED and all.”
“Hey! I only did that because I went to visit my aunt in Colorado for a few months. She was sick. I had to take care of her.”
Grant rolled his eyes, but ignored her, taking another swig of beer instead. Tonya, however, had no issues with calling her out. “If by taking care of your aunt, you really mean you were pregnant and gave the baby up while we were all at prom, then sure.”
By the look on Denise’s face, I thought she was going to punch Tonya. I needed to say something before it escalated.
“Oh, well, it’s a relief I won’t be bringin’ y’alls record down any. What time do we start?”
Nobody replied right away, making me more nervous. My knee was bouncing up and down with nervous apprehension, and I needed to get up and moving to release some of it. Plus, being this close to Grant was making it really hard to remember Christian.
Grant answered in a low voice, meant only for me. “In a half hour or so. We’re usually the last team to bowl ‘cause they know we don’t care about the score.”
When the waiter brought over a big plate of nachos, the rest of the table returned to normal conversation, and we both breathed in relief as we stared at each other. Grant paused for a second, hesitating.
Finally, he reached up and oh-so-slowly tucked a loose curl behind my ear. His rough, calloused fingers felt warm against my damp skin where he brushed it. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and my heart started to race. I could see his jaw tighten, like he wanted to say or do something else, but he didn’t move for several moments.
The laughter, clinking of glasses, and music from the juke box faded away. I could only hear the whooshing of my own heartbeat. I swallowed hard. Grant’s eyes lowered to watch the movement of my neck, and I imagined what it would be like for him to kiss me there like in my dream. To trace the line from my jaw with his finger or tongue down to my clavicle, dipping into that tiny hollow.
I forgot to breathe.
My leg grazed his, with just the tiniest amount of friction. I didn’t take my eyes off him, and I could see his own widen almost imperceptibly. His hand slipped under the table next to mine, hovering. He never touched me. I could feel the heat from his hand like a furnace. He was waiting for permission, a sign that I wanted and accepted his touch. My hands stayed glued to the seat beside me, but I lifted up onto the balls of my feet, causing my knee to bump into his awaiting hand.
It took but seconds for his large, strong hand to clasp the top of my leg, the pad of his thumb brushing along the soft skin inside my thigh. I looked around the table, but everyone was deep in their own conversations, and no one was paying us any attention.
Neither his hand nor my leg moved for a long time. Just the tiny swipes of his thumb, causing