David’s brow wrinkled as he glanced at me. He’d suspected something all morning but had yet to question me. Harboring a secret crush on him was strange. Despite this developing soft spot, I still wanted to get under his skin. Poke the bear until he growled back. It’s a desire now mixed up in a need for his attention. To be heard, seen, and… taken care of. Damn, I wanted him to take care of me in a multitude of ways.
As David changed the radio dial, I sank into my chair, afraid that something could capture my thoughts in the air or on some radio frequency.
“What the hell is going on?” he mumbled to himself when all he could find was snow.
“Dead zone,” I reminded him with my collar pulled over my mouth to keep out the longing sentiments behind some kind of blockade.
There was always a weak signal during this part of the drive. I didn’t know if it was the height of the trees or the lack of houses.
“What kind of couple are we?” David started fumbling with the AC instead, turning on the heat. “Affection-wise.”
“I don’t know.” I straightened to look less defeated.
He took a deep breath. “What kind have you been a part of in the past?”
“You first.”
David frowned. He thought I was deflecting when I was really just fishing. I didn’t want to be the first one to suggest we should hold hands. It was a childish thing to get butterflies over, and yet, I was ready to burst.
“I don’t mind holding hands when it fits the occasion,” hesaid.
I snorted. “When it fits the occasion? What do qualified occasions look like?”
“Crossing the street, going up or down a staircase, in a crowded room, at theme parks.”
“So, practical hand-holding,” I summarized. “Not romantic. David, we’re supposed to be romantically involved.”
“I’m aware.”
“Which means sometimes we may hold hands just for the heck of it.”
“Every couple’s different.”
“If you don’t want to hold hands, you should just say that. We’re discussing boundaries. You can make it your boundary,” I reminded him as I relaxed again in my seat. The warmth from the vents helped calm my edgy nerves.
“I don’t mind holding your hand,” he said with little if any thought.
“You sure?”
He nodded. “Positive.”
“Wonderful to know you’d deign to interlace your fingers with mine,” I mumbled sarcastically. “How are we with hugging? Hand on the waist. Shoulders?”
“I can hug. My waist and shoulders are fine.”
“Same.” I pressed my lips together, treading carefully as I continued. “As my boyfriend, my family will not expect you to make out aggressively with me or anything. But a little thumb on cheek brush or hip grab would sell things.”
“And we don’t want to go out of business too early.”
I flipped down the mirror and checked my makeup. I needed something to do with my hands, and my phone still barely had a signal. “Exactly.”
“Speaking of kissing,” David said.
My stomach’s in hell, but I barely blinked. “What about it?”
“Obviously, we’ll try to avoid the lips at all costs,” he continued.
I laughed, all anxiety, no amusement. “Obviously.”
