Kel’s hand creeps into my space. First by resting on the shared armrest, his pinky brushing against my arm through the sweater.
Then his hand wanders across the divide, finding my knee in the dark.
My whole body goes rigid, my heartbeat practically dropping off.
The strangest sensation I’ve ever felt creeps over me, a tingling that spreads quickly. It’s as if I’ve suddenly developed Spiderman’s hyper sense of awareness. Ihavehis spider sense and it’s now alerting me to danger.
Kel’s hand starts rubbing my thigh through my jeans, the patterns slow and brazen. Enough to make my skin crawl through denim.
On screen Spiderman’s fighting some villain, but I can’t focus on anything except Kel’s hand moving higher.
I sit still and process the fact that Kel’s touch feels wrong. All wrong.
It feels like a violation.
But this is what I wanted, right? All those months of watching him from afar, imagining what it would be like if he noticed me. If he saw methat way.
Why can’t I just relax and go with the flow? Why can’t I be the girl he says I was on Saturday night?
His hand inches up my inner thigh and I squirm, trying to shift away without making it obvious. Useless since the seats are fixed in place and there’s nowhere to go.
My chest tightens, making it harder to draw my next breath.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and the tingling sensation only spreads, some of my limbs going numb.
Tears come to my eyes, blurring my vision.
Kel leans over, his breath hot against my ear. He presses his lips against my neck, his hand only a couple inches from the apex of my thighs.
Something inside me snaps, the paralysis vanishing.
“I SAID NO!”
I’m on my feet before I realize I’m moving, the words ripping out of me so loud they echo off the walls. The entire theater turns to stare. Dozens of faces illuminated by the screen’s glow, all looking at me. Kel’s hands are up, his eyes wide with surprise or maybe annoyance; I can’t tell in the dark.
But I don’t hang around long enough to find out. I grab my purse, turning for the exit, and get the hell out of there, refusing to look back.
7
SILVER
“Thanks for having us,”Logan says, standing on my doorstep. “I figured this was news best delivered in person.”
“Any time. You know you two are always welcome.”
I step aside and let him and Teysha through. Logan strides in holding four-month-old baby Chloe while Teysha clutches two large Tupperware containers—she’s made it a point to bring me food since she found out I’ve been surviving off turkey sandwiches since the divorce.
“Catfish and mac and cheese,” she announces over her shoulder. “I brought you extra to last a few days.”
I chuckle, looking over at Logan and baby Chloe cooing in his arms. “Have I told you lately how good you’ve got it?”
“Don’t need to tell me. I already know. Right, baby?” he asks the infant.
Teysha comes up to his side and gently takes her from him, walking over to the sofa and settling down with Chloe on her lap. The infant immediately starts grabbing for everything within reach—the remote, a framed photo of Tabby and Jack, my ring of keys on the end table.
“Ba ba ba!” Chloe declares, making another grab for the remote. Teysha giggles and catches her chubby fist just in time.
Logan looks on proudly. “That’s my girl. Thinking her club moniker will be Grabby.”
