This Point Forward

by Katrina Abbott

  “So, what should we watch?” he asked, reaching for a brownie with one hand while he flipped channels with the other. It was such a guy thing to do, but I kind of loved it.

  I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Isn’t there football on or something?”

  He leaned back to look at me. “Do you like sports?”

  “Not really,” I said as I grabbed a couple of grapes. “I just thought it’s a big deal right now. Thanksgiving and all.”

  “That was yesterday.”

  “Oh.” I popped a grape into my mouth, feeling stupid. And why was I so nervous? I hadn’t been this nervous when I’d showed him around campus. Now my nerves were jangling like crazy. I was afraid to think too hard about what was happening with me.

  “How about a movie? What kind do you like?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  A minute and three grapes later, I realized he was sitting there staring at me. “What?” I said.

  “What kind of movies do you like?” he asked me like I was from Neptune. Which didn’t feel too far off the mark in that second.

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Sorry, I spaced there. I don’t care, whatever you want to watch.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked as he got up to go over to the DVD cabinet.

  “Sure, whatever you want is fine.”

  With a nod, Rob turned back to the cabinet and perused the big collection of DVDs, which were mostly Disney favorites and rom-coms. I figured there wasn’t really any way to go wrong.

  “Oh, this is classic!” he said with obvious enthusiasm as he slid one of the cases out and opened it up.

  I settled in and got more comfortable on the couch, wishing I had a blanket to cuddle up under; the old building was a bit drafty and the wind had started to pick up outside, kicking up leaves and other debris outside the window. I wondered if we were finally going to get some snow and shivered at the thought—I was in no rush for winter. As long as we got a white Christmas and maybe even a dusting in time for the Santa Hop, since that was as good as Christmas for some of the kids in town.

  “Okay,” Rob said as he dropped next to me, having put the DVD into the player. “Have you seen this?”

  I glanced at the TV and then back at him. “I have no idea what this is. It hasn’t even started.”

  “Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “It’s The Shining.”

  “No,” I said. “Never heard of it.”

  “You’ll love it,” he assured me. “It’s a classic thriller. Stephen King.”

  Thriller? Great. I didn’t have the guts to tell him I was a wimp when it came to scary movies, so I just smiled and nodded, hoping it wasn’t that scary. If I ended up in his lap, gripping him out of sheer terror, well, it was his own fault. Though the ending up in his lap part didn’t seem so bad at all.

  “So you’ve seen it?” I asked stupidly.

  He nodded, leaning back, his eyes trained on the screen. “It’s one of my all-time favorites. Jack Nicholson is...well,” he paused and grinned at me. “You’ll see.”

  Awesome.

  After about ten minutes, I had completely lost track of the movie—blah, blah, blah, big old empty hotel out in the middle of nowhere, Jack Nicholson as a douchey controlling wannabe writer, whiny wife, creepy little kid with an imaginary friend. Whatever. Really not scary. Not even interesting, unless it was the laughable fashions and the cheesy old decorating.

  I was alternating between mentally reconfiguring my e-commerce site and listening to Rob breathe beside me. Mostly it was the Rob thing. It’s not that he was breathing loudly, I was just hyper-aware of him right there beside me. I was moving closer to him by fractions of inches, so slowly that he wouldn’t notice until maybe I was in his lap. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help it; he smelled too good and it was like we were magnets.

  About ten minutes after that, he shifted and his hand bumped into my thigh.

  “Oops, sorry,” he said, giving me a quick apologetic look, not realizing I’d engineered something just like this to happen. Welcome to my web, hot guy.

  “It’s okay,” I said with a smile, not moving away.

  He glanced down at my mouth for a fraction of a second, making my heart jump in my chest, but then he just smiled back at me and returned his eyes to the TV.

  Eight breaths later, he shifted again, this time his knee bumping mine. I wondered if my being so close to him was making him restless.

  “You okay?” I asked innocently.

  He paused the movie. “Yeah, I think I overdid it at the gym yesterday morning and then not sleeping last night didn’t help. My back’s a bit tight.” He yawned as he stretched his arms over his head and twisted a little, causing his shirt to come up over his stomach. I swallowed as I noticed that line of hair that seemed to be pointing downward at his...

  I forced myself to look away and noticed him looking at the other couch. I panicked as I was suddenly able to read his mind, realizing he was going to move where no amount of shuffling was going to get him to touch me again, accidentally or otherwise. I thought about offering to give him a back massage, but that might be too much, too soon and he was already a flight risk.

  “Want to stretch out?” I asked.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  I scootched over to the side of the couch to make room for him.

  “No, it’s okay, I’ll go over there,” he said, nodding toward the other sofa, which was practically in a different time zone.

  “You won’t be able to see the TV properly,” I said, patting the couch beside me. “Lie down, it’s okay.”

  Of course, he was taller than the couch was long, something he didn’t seem to realize until he was almost horizontal and his legs were obviously not going to fit. “Here,” I said, patting my lap.

  He gave me an uncertain look. “You sure?”

  “Of course, it’s fine,” I said with a casual wave of my hand, afraid he’d be able to hear or worse, see my heart pounding in my chest. “I’ll let you know if it gets uncomfortable,” I lied.

  Without another word, he stretched out, his head resting on my thigh, his scent now filling my nose; no more need to inch closer because now he was on me. He started up the movie again and put the remote on the coffee table.

  There was just one problem: I had nowhere to put my hands. At first, I put my arms at my sides and tucked my hands under my butt, but that wasn’t comfortable. So I crossed them at my chest. Also uncomfortable.

  He was right there. Lying on me. It had been my idea, but did it mean something that he was so willing to do that? Should I take it as a signal? It was killing me just thinking about it.

  Why are you being such a chicken? I asked myself. You have never backed down from anything. I put my left arm along the end of the couch and took a deep breath before I lay my right hand lightly on his arm, watching the side of his face for a reaction. I didn’t get one, so I looked back up at the screen, still not able to pay attention as I watched the slight movement of his shoulder in my peripheral vision. That one little movement was way more interesting than some stupid old movie.

  A few minutes later and I rested my left hand on my thigh, almost touching his head but not quite. Then, lightly, so very lightly, I threaded it into his hair as I shifted a bit so he wouldn’t notice.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yep,” I said.

  Then I figured what the hell. I took a breath and went for it, lightly raking my fingers through his perfect hair as though it was the most natural thing. It was even softer than I imagined, making me think it really was perfect if it stayed in place without any noticeable product. Impressive. And so sexy; there was no denying that.

  Emboldened when he didn’t say anything or move away, I did it a second and then a third time, loving the feel of his silky locks through my fingers. Then, suddenly wanting to get a reaction out of him, I pushed my hand in deeper and touched his scalp, tracing my fingertips along the shape of his whole head. I held my breath, waiting for him to sit
up or tell me to stop, when the most amazing thing happened: he sighed.

  “That feels so good,” he said, his voice soft and kind of dreamy.

  I didn’t say anything, not wanting to break the spell, but I kept on playing with his hair as he watched the movie. It felt so intimate, almost like a kiss, but different. Though maybe not quite as satisfying as a kiss, since I was the one doing all the touching and I couldn’t tell if he was liking it because it felt good, or because it felt good and I was the one doing it. I told myself it didn’t matter, as long as he was lying there with his head on my thigh, enjoying what I was doing to him, but I couldn’t shake the thought that a little sign might have been nice.

  Then, as casually as I had started playing with his hair, his hand landed on my knee. My fingers froze in his hair for a half a second as the warmth of his palm seeped through my yoga pants. Forcing myself to start breathing again, I resumed playing with his hair, my heart fluttering as he sighed again.

  This had to mean something. I mean, yeah, Dave had been my only real boyfriend, but the hand on the knee thing had to be a sign. If one of my friends had come to me and described this scene, wondering if the guy was into her, I would have told her he was totally into her.

  I stared at my hand in his hair, watching my fingers as they traced—as if on their own—along his scalp. After a while, it almost seemed like it wasn’t my hand at all, even though I could feel the strands of his super-soft hair sifting through, almost tickling my skin. My eyes drifted down and I took in his angled cheek and the pinpoints of stubble that I wanted desperately to feel against my own skin. But there was no way that would be happening anytime soon.

  He really was beautiful, but in a masculine way, especially when I factored in his smell.

  Stop it, Emmie. He’s a rebound guy. He’s a right now guy. Nothing serious, I told myself. Though I’m not sure myself was listening.

  Then, as I was visually perusing his face, I noticed his eyelashes. They were long and dark, but what was most notable about them in that second was that they were against his cheek. His eyes were closed. Then, as if on cue, he let out a soft snore that was so adorable, I almost melted right there.

  He was fast asleep. I don’t know why that made him even more endearing, but it did. I wanted to pull a blanket over him and tuck him in, but I didn’t have a blanket, nor did I want to wake him, especially after he hadn’t slept the night before. After all he’d been through with hearing about his dad’s heart attack and then getting Brooklyn off to the airport, he deserved a good rest.

  So, determined to let him have that rest, I gingerly removed my fingers from his hair and kept as still as I could so as not to disturb him. After a few minutes of looking my fill of him, this sleeping angel on my lap, I returned my gaze to the TV.

  For the next two plus hours, I didn’t move as Rob slept on my lap, even though it meant I was trapped there, watching what I quickly realized was THE most terrifying film of all time.

  I’m serious.

  Of all.

  Freaking.

  Time.

  ~ ♥ ~

  When the movie was over, I shook Rob’s shoulder, harder than intended, but to say I was freaked out was an understatement. He was lucky I didn’t rip his arm out of its socket.

  And to be honest, I was a little mad at him; I had enough trouble sleeping alone and now, add in the terror threading through my veins thanks to The Shining, and I was fairly sure I would never sleep again.

  “Rob!”

  “Gungh?” he said as I shook him vigorously. “What the...what’s...Emily? What’s happening? Earthquake?”

  “No!” I said, my voice cracking. “And it’s Emmeline. Emmie.”

  “Can you stop shaking me like a paint mixer?”

  I froze for a half a second and then pulled my hands back as I realized maybe I was overreacting. Just a little.

  He sat up, the spot where he’d been lying on my thigh instantly cold, and scrubbed his stubbly face with his hands in one of the most manly gestures I’d ever seen. He looked adorably rumpled and sleepy, so I let the name thing go this time. “I think you scrambled my brains,” he said. “How long was I sleeping?”

  “Sorry. I just...Oh my God, that movie.”

  He glanced at the screen; the credits were rolling. “I slept through the whole thing?”

  I nodded.

  “Did you like it? You look a little...rattled.”

  “It was horrifying,” I whispered. “How could you make me watch that?”

  He smiled. “It’s just a movie.”

  Rationally, I knew that, but something about it had really gotten to me. I began to shake on the inside and tears pricked at my eyes, making me feel so stupid for being so affected by a dumb old movie. But before my anxiety could turn into real tears, I was folded into Rob’s strong arms and pulled against his hard chest. His smell enveloped me and I snuggled into his warmth, my face buried into that place where his shoulder met his neck—probably one of the best places in the world. Especially when a girl is freaked out and worried about crazed Jack Nicholson running after her with an ax. Which had become a recent new fear of mine.

  “You okay?” he whispered into my hair, his breath tickling my scalp.

  “Yeah,” I lied. “I’m fine. Just a bit freaked out.”

  He pulled me in tighter and a tiny part of my brain yelled out “SCORE!” like I had orchestrated this as the perfect way to get into his arms. I hadn’t, of course, but the end result was still the same. It was working, too; as he held me I began to calm down, my inner vibrations easing a bit. It was like he’d known exactly what I needed in that moment.

  I ignored a different part of my brain that was screaming, “DANGER! If you keep this up you are totally going to fall for this guy!”

  Instead of heeding warnings from my gray matter, I allowed my heart a little leeway and pressed my nose against his t-shirt. I took a long, deep inhale, feeling the steady thump of his heart against me.

  “Meep!” I squeaked as something vibrated between us. I realized with a little bit of embarrassment that it was his phone.

  “Sorry,” he muttered as he pulled back from me and dug into his pocket.

  “Pat?” he answered after a quick glance at the screen.

  I stared at the TV, pretending not to eavesdrop. I couldn’t hear what the other person was saying, but once I heard the tone and figured out Pat was a guy, I sort of lost interest.

  “Yeah? Okay, I’ll be right there.”

  Not that the conversation was long or at all intriguing. He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his jeans pocket. “Sorry,” he said again. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “I thought you were off today? You can’t tell me there’s a fence-mending emergency,” I said, suddenly sad. It was unreasonable to think we could spend the whole day together, but I didn’t want our time together to be over.

  “Yeah,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “It was security.”

  “Security?”

  He looked at me for a long moment and I felt again like he was looking inside me somehow. He shook his head and then smiled. “They’re having problems with their monitoring software and I guess they heard I know a little something about computers. They probably just need a reboot or something,” he said with an eye-roll and one of his devastating smirks.

  We got up off the couch and I followed him to the doorway. He stopped abruptly and I ran into his back, my hands automatically going up to his waist to steady myself. It was another dangerous move, touching him like that, but my hands fell away as he turned around and flashed me an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he apologized for the third time. “I just wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Rob glanced over toward the couch. “I haven’t slept that well in I don’t know how long. But I don’t want you to take it as a commentary on your company. If anything, you should be flattered that I could fall asleep; I’ve been wound pretty tightly lately.”

/>   I was going to say something smart, but the look on his face told me he was being completely sincere so I took it as the compliment he intended. “You’re welcome. You’re just lucky you didn’t drool on my leg...”

  His smirk turned up a notch and then I was pulled into another hug. “I’ll text you later, okay?” he said into my hair.

  I nodded and then he pulled back. We left the lounge and walked down the hall together until we got to the stairs. “See ya,” I said casually, desperate for another hug, secretly wishing for a kiss. But I got neither as he gave me a little wave and continued down the hall toward the security office.

  I sighed and started up the stairs, knowing I was totally screwed.

  Oh My God, I'm Dyeing

  “You have to tell her,” Kaylee said as she squeezed another line of hair dye onto my head. I ignored her and instead focused on the tingling on my scalp.

  She wouldn’t be deterred by my mere lack of response, though. Not that I would have been, either, if our roles had been reversed.

  “Emmie?”

  “Yeah, I know,” I sighed.

  “You shouldn’t be dating him at all.”

  She couldn’t see me from where she stood behind me, but I rolled my eyes. “Right. Like you listened when we all told you not to go after Phillip.”

  There was a long silence between us where all I could hear was the howling wind and freezing rain whipping around outside my dorm window. I was about to apologize when Kaylee finally spoke.

  “Maybe I should have listened,” she said, her voice sharp. “I would have ended up with Declan a lot sooner and saved myself a ton of heartache. Not to mention the humiliation of it all.”

  “What? Are you actually admitting we were right?”

  Kaylee grumbled something unintelligible as she drew the tip of the dye bottle along my scalp, depositing the warm liquid as she went.

  “I know, I know,” I said, guessing what she’d probably said and feeling like I needed to give her some sympathy. “Believe me, I get it. Phillip is a giant jerk in a hot boy package. If he never opened his mouth, he’d definitely be dateable. He dazzled you with his soccer abs, didn’t he?”