Robyn shrugs. “I guess, why? Did you cook again?”
I nod, lifting my wrist up and checking the time on my watch. 7:28 p.m. “Should be ready soon.” Settling back on the sofa, I lift my right arm up and rest it along the backrest. “Hope you like lasagna.”
“I do.”
Both of us sit in silence, watching the movie for what feels like an eternity, not a peep coming out of her except subtle noises of enjoyment. The quiet I can deal with, even her sarcastic contemptuous tone when she speaks to me, but what I can’t handle, what’s stopping me from concentrating, is how sad she is. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but I feel like it’s partially to do with me, and I’m just not ready to hear that right now.
I steal a momentary glance at her, only now noticing the much smaller writing underneath the FBI logo on her hoodie. “Female body inspector.” I huff out an unexpected chuckle in response to the logo. “Very cute.”
Robyn looks up at me and I watch as a slow but beautiful smile begins to form, but it still doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I thought so.” She turns her attention back to the television. “Great movie choice by the way.”
Looking down at her once more, I point the neck of the beer bottle in the direction of the screen and frown slightly. “You know this movie?”
“Sure, doesn’t everyone?”
“You’re not even old enough to know this movie, let alone the actors in it.” I chuckle, sipping a mouthful of beer.
Without warning, she inhales deeply. “Ahh, I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”
She winks at me when I snap my head in her direction. “Didn’t take you for someone who would enjoy war-related action movies.”
“Well, you know what they say about people who make assumptions, Jack.”
There’s no way this girl watches films like this enough to remember quotes off the top of her head.Apocalypse Nowis quite a popular movie among men so maybe she heard it or watched it with an ex. Either way, I’m still impressed she knows it.
Fuck it.
“I feel the need—”
“For speed.” She giggles. “Top Gun, 1986,” she cuts me off instantly.
“Each man and every man under my command—”
“Now owes me one hundred Nazi scalps. Inglorious Bastards, 2009.”
“Keep the sand out of your weapons—”
She turns to face me then, a wide grin on her face before she speaks. “Keep those actions clear. I’ll see you on the beach. Saving Private Ryan… uh…” She thinks for a second, biting down on her lower lip as she tries to remember the release date for it. I wait, but my focus is solely on her mouth. Everything about her is tempting to me. “1998?” She looks at me for confirmation.
I nod. “Very good. I have to say, I’m a little impressed.”
“Well,” she huffs playfully. “If you’re going to test me because you don’t believe this is my favourite genre of movies, at least make it somewhat hard for me, Jack.”
Oh, it’s getting hard alright.
Jesus. Fuck, Jack, stop.
I think for a beat, wondering what she might slip up with when she turns her whole body to face me. “Are you quitting on me?” she asks, and just as I’m about to answer, she continues, “Well, are you? Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus—”
Realising now what she’s doing, it’s my turn to cut her off. “Looking piece of shit!”
“Get the fuck off my obstacle course, NOW!” We both finish the sentence together and she bursts out laughing. It’s one of those laughs that ends up making you smile just by the sound of it. Her tone soft and raspy, sexy and natural all at the same time. Not too loud or obnoxious, and without a certain type of pitch in it that pisses you off.
“Full Metal Jacket, 1987.” I nudge her with my elbow. It’s the first bit of contact either of us have had since the events of last night came to pass. I check my watch again and realise it’s time to take the food out of the oven. “Alright, smart-ass, I believe you. Do you have a favourite movie?” I ask, not sure why.
“Notting Hill.” She turns to look at me, holding back her grin. “It’s not war related, I know. But—” She shrugs. “It’s romantic as shit, have you not ever seen it?”
“No, and I don’t plan to either. Romance movies are not my forte.”
