by Lisa Levine
"What's this movie about again?" she asked as we settled into our seats and leaned back in the plush chairs with our wine in the drink holders.
I had no idea what the movie was about.
"Hey," I said as I quickly changed the subject. "So what's up with you and Ben? Are you guys like dating now or something?"
Ivy fidgeted uneasily in her seat. "No, just friends."
"Oh," I said. "But not best friends." I grinned mischievously at her, and she smacked me on the shoulder.
"Of course not," she said. "You're the only best friend that I can handle. You can be a lot of work sometimes."
"Hey, now!" I said as I acted offended.
We both laughed and sipped our crappy movie theater wine.
This was fun, really fun.
I loved hanging out with Ivy. While the previews started to roll, we talked quietly about how we both thought Ben and Bridget secretly had crushes on each other and laughed about the way that Bridget used to have a crush on Easton's older brother, Jake.
"I think she's seriously only even seen your brother in those music scene magazines," Ivy laughed. "How can you have a serious crush on someone you've only ever seen in a magazine? I think she's better off with Ben."
"Agreed. Now, if only they'll realize they like each other," I said. "Maybe we'll have to give them a little nudge, a double date, maybe?"
I was hoping that it wasn't too soon to push my luck with that joke. Ivy scrunched her face up at me and then smacked me playfully across the chest. Nope, it wasn't too soon. She was over the drama, and she thought it was funny, too. I smiled and felt finally relieved about it all.
"What about Layla?" she asked.
"What about her?"
"Are you guys dating now, too, or is it just a fling kind of thing?"
"I don't know," I answered. I really didn't know.
I didn't see myself staying with Layla for the long-haul, but I hadn't quite made up my mind about whether or not I was going to date her or just leave it as the casual encounter that it had been. I was kind of glad when the lights started to get dark, and the movie got ready to play so that I didn't need to elaborate on that question any further.
I moved up the armrest between us; we always did that at the movies so that we could sit shoulder to shoulder and whisper about things during the showing without bothering anyone around us. Fortunately, we were both talkers when it came to movies. Otherwise, one of us would have been severely annoyed with the other. Ivy loved going to the movies. I remembered that ever since the first movie we ever went to together. And we had this special way of sitting where we were shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, and even our ankles nudged up against each other on the floor because we had signals for things if we wanted to tell each other something. A tap on the shoulder meant to lean in because the other person had something to whisper. A little kick with the ankle meant that we either needed more snacks, or someone had to get up to use the restroom. We had the whole elaborate system figured out, but it had been a while since we had seen a flick together. Still, though, we seemed to sit against each other in the same exact way as if we had never forgotten how.
We sipped our wine, and by the time I was done with the tiny glass, I was ready for another. I leaned over to whisper to Ivy and ask her if she wanted another refill of wine, too, but I had forgotten about tapping her on the shoulder. At the exact same time that I leaned over to her, she must have been getting ready to say something to me, too, because her head turned quickly toward me. Instead of our well-oiled system of shoulder tapping, we ended up face to face, so close that our noses were touching, and I could feel her breath on my lips.
I froze.
I didn't want to pull away from her, not only because I thought it would make the moment even more awkward than it already was, but also because I just didn't want to. Ivy didn't pull away, either. She just stayed right where she was with the tip of her nose touching mine and the reflection of her eyes looking into mine through the light being cast off by the movie screen. I felt my hand clench against the armrest on the opposite side of my body.
"I was just going to ask if you wanted more wine," I whispered against her face.
When I opened my mouth to talk, my lips were so close to hers that I felt like I was tasting her breaths on my tongue, and I became immediately flustered by the thought of her soft lips against mine. I felt my hand on the chair start to shake from gripping it so hard to keep myself from doing anything other than asking her about the wine.
"Sure," she said. "Thank you."
My eyes darted back and forth between her eyes and mouth, and even in the darkened light, I could see her barely parted lips moving. I wanted to slide my tongue between her lips so badly that I thought I was going to lose my mind.
She turned away her face to get her glass to hand me, and I knew that if she hadn't broken that moment, I would have given in.
"Be right back," I said as I stood up and left the theater with our empty glasses in my hand.
As soon as I got outside into the hall, I sucked in a big breath of air.
"You okay?" one of the ushers who was sweeping the corridor asked me. "You look like you're about to have a panic attack. Do you need help?"
"No," I said as I waved him away. "I'm fine, thanks."
I felt like I was having a panic attack, though. I didn’t even know what that was, but I felt like I was going to implode. My entire body was shaking; no wonder the usher thought I was having some sort of attack. I was sweating, and my brain felt like it was on fire. When I got to the counter to get us more wine, I also asked for a glass of ice water and drank the whole thing before I even got back to the theater door. Then I took another deep breath to calm myself and walked in with the wine.
Ivy took the glass from my hand as soon as I got back to my seat and the two of us resumed our special movie-watching position. Except that this time it felt different. It felt so different. Instead of feeling comfortable and cozied up like we always did, I felt like the room was spinning. I felt feverish and shaky, and as if I couldn't breathe instead of feeling the casual touching of shoulders and thighs and ankles. I could smell the fragrant scent of her shampoo against her neck and the feel of her jeans rubbing against the side of my thigh. Even her ankle touching mine made me start to envision our legs entwined together beneath tangled-up bedsheets.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
A thick sexual tension lingered throughout the rest of the movie, and I thought Ivy felt it, too. We were much quieter during the showing than we had ever been in any movie before. Normally, when the movie was over, we would walk out holding hands, and I would sometimes give her a spin or a piggy-back ride. We'd done stuff like that since we were teenagers. But tonight, I kept my hands in my pockets because I knew that if I held her hand or even touched her skin, that it would lead to much more than a piggy-back ride. I felt as if my whole world had suddenly spun right off of its axis, and nothing made sense anymore. Ivy was my best friend in the world, and now suddenly, I wanted her.
After the movie, I took her right home.
"You want to come in for a bit?" she asked.
I could tell by the smaller than usual smile on her face that she felt something, too; I just couldn't tell what it was that she felt.
Bridget's little terrier barked and yipped as I stood in the doorway.
"Peacock, hush!" Ivy scolded it.
I found it amusing that a woman who named her dog "Peacock" took issue with a woman who nicknamed herself "Foxy." Regardless of that little amusing aside, I couldn't come in to hang out with Ivy, not tonight.
"Thanks," I said. "But I have an early meeting in the morning at work, so I should probably get going."
"Okay," she smiled. It looked like her smile was placed there to hide the disappointment.
I leaned forward to kiss her on the top of the head like I always did. But this time, when she put her hand up against my chest, as she always did when I kissed the top of her hea
d, I felt something different. I felt her touch, not in the same friendly way that I was used to, but in an uncomfortably intense way that made me want to grab her wrist again and pull her closer.
"Goodnight," I said as I slowly pulled away from her, and she let her hand drop down to her side.
"Night," she replied.
* * *
Later that evening, I couldn't stop thinking about Ivy. It was as if I was seeing her in an entirely different way now, and it made me uncomfortable because I didn't know what to think about it. I took a hot shower and felt the water running down over my body. Without thinking, I held the palm of my hand up against the place on my chest that Ivy's hand had been, and I closed my eyes beneath the running water to imagine the feel of her palm there again.
This was ridiculous. I needed to snap out of it. By the time I had gotten into bed, it was late, and I was tired. I closed my eyes and watched the images of tonight's events replay across the inside of my eyelids. Eventually, my brain gave in to my body and allowed me to sleep.
But in the morning, as soon as I woke up and opened my eyes, I realized something.
I was still thinking about Ivy.
11
Chapter Seven (Ivy)
The movie last night was intense. Actually, I wasn't even paying attention to the screen itself, so I have no idea what the film was even about. But the movie theater was intense and strange. I didn't know if Easton felt it, too, but there was something there between us, something that made it hard to think straight.
"How was the movie?" Bridget said as she came around the corner into the kitchen to grab the coffee I was already handing to her. "You're the best roommate ever; did you know that?"
"Thanks," I smiled.
"So, tell me all about it."
"Oh, it was fine," I said as I put my cup to my lips.
"Fine? What is that supposed to mean?"
Bridget was truly awesome. She didn't hold back anything; what you saw was what you got, and I admired that quality about her. When we had met a couple of years ago, she and I were both attending the same author signing event at the bookstore. I had thought she was cool looking, with her shoulder-length black hair that had the ends cut all ragged and her deep-brown eyes that looked like mocha. I also admired how confident she was. She was curvy and beautiful, and everything that I never was even once during high school and college. I sat down next to her, and we got to talking and figured out that we were both broke and needed roommates. Since it seemed like we were in the same position and we had a lot of similar interests, we decided to be roommates. Then, right after that, we both got jobs at the bookstore, and the rest was history.
"It means," I said as I finished answering her question, "that I don't really know how it went, to be honest."
"Uh oh," she said as she sat down, holding her coffee cup in both hands. "Spill it."
"Well, nothing happened, but it just felt weird."
"Weird how?"
"Like our faces kind of touched and instead of shoving each other out of the way as we would normally do, we both just stayed there. I'm being ridiculous, right? I mean, that is literally nothing. Tell me that I'm overthinking this," I said once I realized how crazy I sounded.
"Hmm," she said as she made her thinking face, which resembled the look of a constipated turtle. "I'll have to think about it and see what happens with mister fancy-pants next."
"Nothing is going to happen next," I said. "We need to get to work."
Bridget made a dramatic moan as if putting on her work clothes was the most inhumane form of torture. That reminded me about something, though.
"Hey, what do you think of Ben?" I asked her.
"Ben, like our boss Ben?"
"Yeah."
"He's a nice guy, why?" she asked.
"Because I think maybe he likes you?" I said with a smile.
"What gave you that idea?"
"I don't know, Easton and I were just talking about it, and we thought that it seemed like you both kind of—"
Bridget put her palm up in the air facing me. "I'm just going to stop you right there," she said with a laugh. "You and Easton can't even figure out your own shit. Talk to me about it once you two have your feelings about each other finally sorted."
"Fair point," I said.
12
***
It was a weekday, so I knew that my shift at the bookstore would likely be extremely uneventful, which was fine with me. I could use a bit of downtime. Weekdays were usually slow because a lot of people were at work, which also included Easton, who only came to visit on Saturdays as our tradition had developed. I started working on dusting some of the tops of the bookshelves off since I had noticed customers sneezing a lot lately and was hoping it was due to dust and not an early flu season.
"Hey," Easton said from behind me about an hour into my shift.
I flew around with the duster still in my hand that sent a cloud of particles flying off into the air.
"Hey," I said, happy but also confused. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Uh, because you never come to the bookstore mid-week. Don't you need to be at your office right now?" I asked.
"One of the perks of owning your own company is being your own boss and not having to worry about getting fired for leaving the office when you want to," he said.
I guessed that made sense.
"So, to what do I owe this impromptu visit to?" I asked, happy to see him no matter which day of the week it was.
Easton looked around nervously. It appeared as if he didn't actually have a reason for coming.
"I just figured I would stop by and see you, just because." He fidgeted and shifted his weight between his feet as though he was trying to come up with a better answer than that. "And also I needed a book—I mean, a couple of different books."
Ben heard him say that last part and looked around one of the bookcases with a suspicious look of disbelief. I don't think he thought Easton read any of the books he bought, either.
"What books are you looking for?" I asked, ignoring Ben. "I can help you find them."
"Okay, cool," Easton said as he pulled out his phone from his pocket. "Just a second, I had them pulled up on Google before I came. "Um, here they are."
He handed me his phone, and there was a random selection of "best fantasy books" on some blogger's list.
"Are you sure these are the books you want?" I asked.
"Yeah, those are the right ones," he said. I think he must have forgotten that I had known him for years and could totally tell when he was full of shit.
"Okay," I said as I played along with whatever it was that he was trying to do. "How many of these do you want?"
"All of them."
"But there's like fifty books on this list," I said.
"Yeah, I'll take them all if you have them here."
Ben's eyes popped around the corner again. He was all too happy to have Easton drop a small fortune during his random book shopping spree.
"Okay, but this might take a while to find them all," I said. "Do you want to text me the link to this list, and you can come back later to pick them up after I've collected them all for you?"
"No, it's okay," he said. "I'll stay and help you look for them. I've got a light day at the office, nothing much going on."
"That's the first time I've ever heard you reference not being buried at work. Are you sure everything is all right?" I asked.
He sure seemed to be acting strangely. "Yes, I'm totally fine. Everything is fine," Easton said again.
I shrugged and walked with him toward the section that would have the first book on his list.
It took some time to find each one and add it to Easton's purchase stack, but we were having fun chatting and playing around while we did it. It was definitely making my shift a lot more enjoyable having Easton here during the middle of the week. We were about on the fifth or sixth item on the list when he bumped into someone he knew.
"Eas
ton!" the woman squealed as if someone were pulling her toe at the same time that she was trying to talk. "What a surprise seeing you here at the bookstore. I didn't know you liked to read; I didn't see any books in your bedroom."
Let me guess; this must be Layla.
"Layla," Easton said. He was clearly surprised to see her here. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting a latte," she said as she walked right up to him and started to reach her hands beneath his T-shirt.
See? This was exactly why he should keep his shirt tucked in. I should have known she wasn't here to buy an actual book. I was dying to hear the barista in the café call out the name "Foxy" when her drink was ready.
"So, lover-boy, when's the next time we get to roll around in bed together?" she said as she licked her lips in a really disgustingly sexual way that seemed more like an attempt to touch her chin with her tongue.
Bridget looked over at her from across the store and tried to do a charades-style reenactment of a stripper on a pole. I would have laughed except I was too busy being upset that Layla's hands were moving around under Easton's shirt against his chest. When she dove her hand down beneath the top of his pants, I couldn't stomach any more of it. I picked the duster back up and walked away, leaving the pile of books we had gathered on the shelf behind me.
I could see Easton looking uneasy and flustered behind me as he yanked Layla's hand out of his pants and told her that he "couldn't talk now." I ignored everything else and kept walking away quickly until I found a secluded corner of the bookstore at the very far end of the shop and in a relatively obscure section that most people didn't even know was there. I planned to stay here and dust this one shelf for the rest of the afternoon until my shift was over or until everyone else left, whichever came first.
"Why did you leave?" Easton's voice asked from behind me.