I opened my mouth again, hoping my brain could form words enough to explain to him how, in that moment, I was beyond grateful for the unyielding support he’d always offered, even when that support came in the form of leaving me alone. But before I could tell him anything, before I could explain the enormity of what I was feeling, he stood up and smiled at me. He waited for me to follow, his expression telling me that he already knew everything I was feeling, that words weren’t necessary, that my being there was enough explanation.
So I stood too. And I shivered when his hand met the small of my back as he guided me toward the exit, relishing the fact that my body was literally shivering just from one touch of his hand. We were both trying to play it smart, keep our hearts safe, but my body was leaps and bounds ahead of my head, and my body wanted his. He walked me to the entrance of my soundstage and I felt his hand leave my back only to gently grip my arm at the elbow. He turned me toward him, then his hands moved up my arm, over my shoulder, and stopped with his fingers tenderly wrapping around the side of my neck. He was just inches away and his scent was swirling around me, and my body went from wanting his, to aching for it.
I couldn’t help the sigh the escaped me when he pressed his lips to the crown of my head. My eyes closed, I exhaled, and my body melted into his. My front pressed into his, my free hand coming to rest on his hip, and I let the connection between us wash over me. Even after all the months apart, he was my home.
“I’ll text you,” he said quietly against my hair.
“Okay,” I whispered, my fingers curling in at his waist, his t-shirt gathering in my clutch. He pressed a chaste kiss to my head again, then pulled away, taking his body and his shirt with him, even if I silently objected.
“Later,” he said coolly, as he backed away from me.
“Bye.” I brought my eyes up to meet his. He winked at me and I nearly passed out as all the blood rushed down from my head and left me dizzy.
The light-headed feeling stayed with me until Wednesday, only exacerbated by the frequent texting happening between us, which was filled with flirting and sexual tension. When I met him outside the theater on the lot, the dizziness was still present but one smile from him and I was spinning.
“You made it,” he said with a smile as I stopped just a step or two away from him.
“I’m here. Ready to be scared to death.”
He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “You don’t like scary movies?”
“Used to, but then life got real and I didn’t need anything else to be afraid of.” The honest words flowed, surprising even me. I couldn’t help but feel lighter after I’d said them, almost enjoying that I’d shared something with him I normally wouldn’t have, and wasn’t panicking about it. I’d told him something real. Something true. I’d given him a tiny piece of me to hold on to.
It made it all worth it when he seemed to mentally tuck the information away, turned toward me, wrapped his arm lightly around my shoulder, and said, “I’ll be sure to protect you.”
The studio built an incredibly plush theatre, which was free and open to anyone who worked on the lot. It was fancy. That was really the only way it could be described. The studio understood the people who made the movies didn’t always have time to see them, so they built a theatre to make the movies more accessible. Also, sometimes the big Hollywood actors couldn’t just go to a movie theatre. Not that I expected to see someone famous. Usually the theatre was used by poor interns or other employees who couldn’t really afford to go to the movies in LA, as it was nearly as expensive as putting a down payment on a house.
Plus, the popcorn was free and loaded with salt and butter.
We found our seats, not too close to the front, and I started the process of getting comfortable. The seats, which weren’t like the ones in a normal theatre, were like soft, fluffy love seats. They were just big enough for two people to have enough space, but small enough that you were forced to share your personal space anyway. I had no qualms making myself at home. I stripped off my jacket, laying it over the arm of the seat, then took my shoes off. Riot looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
“Did you bring your favorite pajamas too?”
He was mocking me.
“They pretty much invite you to pretend you’re at home with these chairs. I don’t want to be uncomfortable. I want to lounge. Especially if I’m going to watch a scary movie.”
He held up both his hands in defense, but a smile was playing on his lips. “Hey, I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your comfort. By all means, make yourself at home.”
“I intend to,” I said, raising my chin in defiance. He was laughing at me, but he stopped when I settled next to him, my hips touching his. My feet were curled up under me to the side, forcing me to lean against him. No, he wasn’t laughing any longer. He was, however, smiling when he lifted his arm and coolly laid it behind me, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. I let my body lean farther into him, taking the space his arm had vacated. I snuggled in a little closer and whispered, “Smooth.”