I glance between his friendly grin and my computer.It can’t hurt… Can it?
“Sure.”
“Should I be taking notes?”
“We’ll run through the theory once it’s over.”
“Once they’re married, with a white picket fence?”
“Actually, it’s not technically considered a romance. It’s more of a love story. They die in the end.”
“What the hell?! Spoilers!”
“You’ll survive. Now, pass the M&M’s.”
I curl back to my usual spot—on the floor, propped against my bed—and he scoots over to sit next to me. When I set the laptop across both of our legs, it forces us to press our thighs together, and pretending I’m not suddenly hyperaware of every inch of skin that is in contact with his, I restart the movie.
There’s a rustle of plastic, and a large hand appears in my peripheral vision, full of colorful candy. I take a few, very pointedly avoiding brushing his fingers. My body’s already being weird about this whole thigh-against-thigh situation. I don’t need to make it worse.
As the movie rolls, silence settles, and I keep sneaking handfuls of M&M’s from the pack resting on his lap. Turns out Donovan isn’t the type to narrate every single scene. Thank God.
“Is this guy for real?” he says suddenly.
So much for that…
“Why isn’t Max getting that Sheryl’s the stranger he’s been chatting to online? It’s pretty fucking obvious…”
“Shh!”
“How can he eventhinkthis is Abby? She’s such a blatant bullshitter!” He chews thoughtfully. “Just goes to show what a great ass can do.”
“Are you done? Because I’m trying to focus, here. One more word, and you’re out.”
“Wow, take it easy!” he protests. “You need to relax. You’ve been chewing on your nails this whole time.”
He leans in, stopping inches from my face. “I think this movie is stressing you out,” he says quieter, his breath ghosting down my neck.
I suddenly feel faint.
Oh my God. Not this again!
I take a few deep breaths to recenter, eyes glued to the screen, when Donovan casually stretches an arm out on the mattress behind me, and a shiver runs down my spine, pooling in my lower belly.
Okay, this actually needs to stop. Drastic times call for drastic measures. When I see John to wax his back tomorrow, I’ll be asking him for a little favor of my own. Just the once. Or twice, max. Just enough to take the edge off.
“Fuck, Max!” Donovan lets out a bark of laughter. “He’s not seriously going to sleep with Abby, is he? Wake up, buddy! You’re in the wrong place! Sheryl’s on the first floor!” He covers his eyes. “This is not happening.” He peeps through his fingers. “Yes! Good job, Max!”
I start to laugh. I like seeing him so caught up in the movie.
“Yes,Max! Jackpot.Nowshe’s gonna let you f—”
I elbow him in the ribs, and he laughs, reaching for my bun and giving it an affectionate ruffle.Why are they all so obsessed with my hair?I keep my wild curls scraped back specifically so people don’t mess with them.
As the on-screen action plays out, he carries on fiddling with my hair absentmindedly, and my body is enjoying this a little too much for my liking. Especially right now, when my hyperactive libido, the spicy scene on-screen, and the guy sitting dangerously close are blending into one very inconvenient cocktail.
Suddenly, the room feels unbearably hot, and I do my best to slow my breathing, praying he won’t notice I’m basically overheating. Max and Sheryl are finally getting it on, and the visuals are… a lot. My stomach tightens. I swear Donovan feels three times heavier against my shoulder. I don’t think I’ve budged an inch in the last ten minutes. Has he?
“Your ears are all red,” he whispers.
