"Lemme see?" She murmured, stopping just short of taking the phone out of his hands. Her fingertips touched his briefly, then she withdrew her hand. His anxiety at her nearness subsided somewhat. He sighed, held it out for her, and looked off in no direction in particular. She read it aloud, but quietly, intimately.
"Time 2 take a brake," she started, grinning unhappily but not otherwise commenting on the grammar. "I will let u no. Bye 4 now." She shook her head in dismay and disgust. Right then he didn't need to hear it, and she knew that. No "I told you so," or "What a fucking bitch," or "Gee, I'm sorry, that sucks dude."
So he said it for her. "Bitch."
She handed him back the phone and scooted closer on the seat, touching him as much as she could with just a bicep and a knee. Neither of them liked crowds, or noise, and they usually huddled up, like now. He couldn't remember a moment when he was more grateful for the distraction of the warmth and softness of her skin, and her delicate, sweet smell that didn't come from a bottle. He felt her cheek on his shoulder briefly and couldn't help but inhale. Her hair was down, curly and tickling, the color of sunlight, and he realized something very important. He wasn't that upset about Sarah. Almost not at all. What did that mean?
"Stop that. It wasn't you," she chided, just low enough for him to hear over the engine of the bus and the rap music coming from headphones of the girl in the seat beside them. "Fuck her."
"No, fuck me," he said, trying for a joke and failing. He shrugged roughly, then regretted his anger. "Sorry."
"Why, fuck you? I know you better than I know myself. It wasn't you," she said. "She doesn't deserve you. She just wanted you to take her places and buy her shit." He smiled at her anger, it fit her so much better. He was always afraid of what he'd break, but she just looked more stunning than ever when she was mad.
"It's just... it's the same story. I'm done, I think. I suck at dating."
"No, you're not. You may be too nice, but... shit. Doesn't matter. You know I gave up a while back too, and being single definitely has its perks," she sighed. "Dating just sucks in general."
"Big hairy donkey testicles," he nodded seriously and she giggled, as he knew she would. Her laugh was even more awesome than her smile.
"The hairiest," she added seriously. "So... pizza?"
"Pizza. And Netflix."
"Hell yeah," she said. "You pick. I'd just pick something violent." She raised a small clenched fist as best she could in the cramped bus. "Ooh, if I could just yank out one chunk of that bitch's hair."
He put his palm on her knuckles, patted it and grinned. "Put that away before somebody gets hurt."
"I'll punch her in the boob. I'll give her a thong wedgie. I'll -"
He laughed good and hard, pulling his hand away as if he'd touched a hot surface. People stared, then looked away. "Okay, damn," he muttered. "Remind me not to make you mad." He was feeling better already, but she usually had that effect on him.
Their stop was next and they stood simultaneously. He towered over everyone else, as usual. The mini-crowd parted just enough and she scooted along in his wake. As usual. In happier (or at least more bored) times, he'd stop abruptly and she'd crash into him, then kick his ankle or slap his butt good and hard. He loved their routines. All of them.
The bus came to a halt and she was calling Papa John's before the door even whooshed shut. He took up his usual spot between her and the street, and she did the ordering while he tried to ignore the fact that he could see just the perfect amount of glistening breast through the neck of her t-shirt. Being tall has its advantages, at least until you hit your head on something for the thousandth time.
They stopped at the corner store, as usual, and picked up snacks. It actually was on the corner, just a few doors down from their family's duplex. He paid despite her complaints and carried the bags as he always did. She opened the front door for him and disappeared while he put everything away.
A few minutes later, he was on the couch feet up, tv on. She came in wearing pajama shorts and the same t-shirt as before, although it looked like she'd taken off her bra. He shuddered and looked away, even though she hadn't been looking at him, but at the tv. He hadn't gotten them snacks, not yet, because the pizza hadn't arrived, but he did get drinks, and hers was waiting, chock full of ice.
She folded her feet under her, cat-like, and leaned in to kiss him solidly on the cheek. He uttered a dorky "Wha -" and stared at her.
She picked up her glass of Dr. Pepper and smiled. "I appreciate you," she said evenly, and took a swig. He smiled back, wanting another kiss like that, but thankful for what he had already.
"You're something else," he said, turning his attention back to the tv.
"I know," she said. "Picked a movie yet?"
"I think so. Got it narrowed down anyway."
The doorbell rang, and since their parents were on vacation at a luxury condo on the beach hours away, that could only mean one thing. She bounced up and streaked for the door with a whoop. He grinned after her like a fool, too amused to even try to get an eyeful. The shorts weren't that tight, but they were tight enough, and then there was the bra-less thing. He shook his head to clear it and turned his attention back to the tv, which became even more difficult when the smell wafted down the hall to where he sat. BBQ chicken with bacon and extra cheese.
She went right for the kitchen with it, came back loaded up with her hands and even arms full, snacks and all. "I paid," she said as she plopped down carefully.
"I left money -" He started, frowning.
She fished the cash out of the front of her pajama shorts. "Sorry, no pockets. Don't worry, I'm clean, no cooties." He took it, gaping, and she chuckled evilly, then chowed down. He'd chosen one of her favorites, Cinderella Man, and she whooped again. It was going to be a great night.
An hour later, they were stuffed and her head was on a pillow on his lap. He tugged and petted her hair, his heart thumping so hard he could hear it. She was so warm, and comfortable, and making soft, sensual sounds as he caressed her scalp, her earlobe, her neck, the edge of her jaw.
"You're so good to me," she said sleepily. "I think I'll keep you."
"Huh?" He said, stopping.
She turned her face up to him, smiling, eyes half shut. "Nothing," she said after a moment. She took his hand and held it, interlacing her fingers through his, which wasn't easy due to the size difference, but they managed. She squeezed and he squeezed back, and she turned back to the movie. The back of his hand ended up between her breasts and he could feel her heartbeat thumping just as his was. It was fast, and she was so warm to the touch. She hugged his hand so tenderly. He tugged on her long, free, white-blond curls with his other hand, thankful that there was a pillow between her head and his lap.
Half an hour later, she still hadn't released his hand and their hearts were still pounding like mad. She got up and he paused the movie. "Want anything?" She asked, padding off toward the kitchen, and this time he couldn't resist watching her.
She had just enough ass for it to bounce in her shorts and he felt his erection growing, or maybe that was just his imagination. He didn't think it could grow longer or harder than it already was, and there was a definite trickle going. He finally remembered to answer, fearful that she'd look back and see him staring. "No... thanks."
He lay his head back and closed his eyes. It was only nine thirty but he felt very tired anyway. His phone vibrated silently on the table to his left and he ignored it. He sighed heavily, trying to relax, and moments later felt small, warm hands on his cheeks, followed by a small, warm kiss on his brow. He murmured happily.
"You should just be my boyfriend," she whispered, still holding his face tenderly. His heart leapt into his throat and he swallowed it. Was she serious? What if she was?
"Deal," he said lightly, unsure how to respond. She patted his cheeks, kissed his brow again and padded around to sit with him. He couldn't look meet her eye just yet, so he turned the movie back on. She had a bag of Twizzlers and offered him one. He took it and thanked her.
They munched in silence and then he heard her toss the half-empty bag on the other table to her right. She pulled down the blanked on the back of the couch, unfolded it and threw it over them. He lifted his arm and she snuggled in against his side, pulling his hand between her breasts again. But this time, he thought he felt her brush his hand against one of her nipples, which was hard. Definitely braless. Then his hand moved away, and it all happened too quickly for him to figure out if it was an accident. He squeezed her hand and she returned it immediately, fiercely, and his other hand went right back to tugging her hair.
When the movie was over, she stretched hard, one hand making its way up behind his head, and she looked up at him, smiling lazily.
"There, you got your violence after all," he said, smiling back. "Damn good movie."
She left her hand behind his head, back arched, and then withdrew it almost reluctantly. "I know. Paul Giamatti is such a damn good actor."
"I can even stand Renee Zellweger in that one."
She sat up, eyes wide. "I know! She was actually a really good wife, don't you think?"
He nodded. "They had a good relationship."
She smiled, those deep, sparkling green eyes dancing. "That's what I want."
