“Oh, for heaven’s sake,King.” He snaps his head to look down at me.Good. “You couldn't handle being under me.”
Someone behind us clears their throat, and I snap my head behind me as Knightley mutters a curse under his breath.
“I let myself in as I usually do,” Marcus says with suspicion dripping in his voice. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me at Knightley’s side plenty of times, but we’ve never given off the vibe that’s clearly suffocating everyone in the vicinity.
As Knightley stands to address Marcus, I fly off of the couch and announce to the world I’m going to go pee.
Real classy, I know.
Once I’ve locked myself in the bathroom, I splay my hands on the marbled counters and stare at my pinkened reflection in the large mirror above the sink. What is wrong with me?
Knightley knows how to get under my skin, sure, but it’s never been likethis.Flirty. Charged. A touch of forbidden.
In fact, I’veneverfelt the feelings he’s curating in me before. Not even with the two guys I dated momentarily in college just to experience the hype. Spoiler alert: Both relationships tanked quickly when I told the guys I wasn’t sexually inclined.
I’m second guessing that now. What’s with the tingles and flush and butterflies? It’s throwing me off my game, and I need to toss these ridiculous notions out of that double-paned window by the porcelain bathtub.
After cooling my face and ridding myself of nonsensical thoughts (like Knightley is intentionally flirting with me and is not just trying to tease me in a different manner than he usually does), I make my way back to the living room just as the front door shuts.
“Marcus left,” he says, stating the obvious and acting like nothing happened. “Ready to watch the movie? Here,” he grabs a box of Whoppers from the end table, “mix these with the popcorn.”
“But this is my apology movie. I shouldn’t have to get butter hands,” I state, crossing my arms. If he wants to act like we didn’tflirtwith each other moments ago,then so be it. Probably because he didn’t mean anything by it and I’m being a twit.
“Not an apology movie, but think what you want to. It’s still your turn to mix the goods.” He sits down on the couch, man-splaying in his khaki pants, as he opens the box of candies.
I huff and roll my eyes, but I sit down and grab the popcorn from the brown coffee table in front of us, then he dumps the Whoppers into the bowl. I slip my hand inside and gently coax the popped kernels of corn out of the way so the candy can fall to the center and bottom of the batch.
“If this isn’t an apology movie, then what are we doing here?” He gives me a napkin to wipe my hands off with, but I will most definitely be making a bathroom trip to wash my hands in a moment.
Knightley shrugs, pressing play on the movie. “I wanted to see this.”
“And you couldn’t have watched it with Marcus or some other friend?”
He looks at me with a cheeky smile, his blue eyes stark in the dim room as the bright screen reflects within them. “You are my friend, Janie.” Then he does the unthinkable and ruffles the top of my head. “And I should treat you to horror films occasionally.”
It’s on the edge of my tongue to ask, “Then why in a million lifetimes would you say you want me toneedyou and then say you like getting under my skin? Mytannedskin?” But I don’t ask. Instead, I click my tongue at him for messing up my perfectly curated Hollywood waves and head back to the bathroom to wash my hands. Who cares if I miss the beginning of this atrocious movie.
Once I’m in the bathroom, I allow myself one more itsy bitsy moment to fall to pieces over Knightley’s unprecedented attention. It’s… new. I don’t know where it’s coming from. Maybe it was all in my head. Lord knows he jokes with me, but where did the flirtiness come from? Is it because I am currently surrounding myself in the study of romance and love for my matchmaking business? Yes, that must be it. My head is full of nonsensical ideas that only work for other people and not me. I’m projecting, and I need to take Taylor Swift’s advice and calm down.
And then I remember what I said back to him, and I slap myself on the forehead with my freshly washed hands. “Way to go, Emma Jane. No wonder he messed with my hair and spoke to me like I’m a little kid. He was reminding me of a clear boundary that I danced right over with my comment about him being…
“Oh, God. Why, why,whydid I say that? It was completely inappropriate in the first place, not to mention I said it toKnightley!”My thoughts continue spewing out of my mouth in aprayerful plea.“He can’t handle being underneath me? Gah! What was I thinking? Please, if You can give him amnesia, I’d be eternally grateful.”
I take a steadying breath and then walk with confidence like all is well in the world. Knightley doesn’t say anything to me, only hands me the popcorn so I can try some. We continue in silence, and when a grotesque creature pops up on the screen, I pull my knees to my chest, thankful I wore jeans to work today instead of a skirt, and mentally prepare myself for the nightmares that are sure to follow based on the sounds from the movie alone. Yeah, I’ve officially shut my eyes, and they will remain squeezed shut through this entire thing. Which begs the question: Why didn’t I just go home once I realized what movie he wanted to watch tonight?
I don’t know the answer, but as a loud, screeching sound sends me jumping over into his body for protection that’s not necessarily needed, and he holds me tight against him for the remainder of the film, only releasing me once the credits roll, I have suspicions I stayed because bickering with him is my favorite thing to do.
Even more fun than barista-ing.
Even more stimulating than matchmaking…
Emma Jane
Rule #5: Be flexible and able to shift plans. Humans are messy.
Itap the ballpoint of the pen to my temple, brainstorming ideas about how to make the next date better.
“He complained the entire time about the food, the art on the walls, and then at the end of the night, he didn’t even tell me goodbye.” Henrietta paces my room like an early spring tornado, a force to be reckoned with, as she recounts her date from last night with Reverend Philip. “He stood, snorted, and walked out of the restaurant. At least he didn’t leave me with the check…”
