And this time when his knee hit mine neither of us moved right away. His leg against mine. It was something so little but it felt right.
Then his phone rang. “No phone calls during the epic shoot out,” I warned teasingly.
Mitch snorted but pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Garrett, take over for me, would ya?” he said, handing the controller over and getting to his feet. He put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Soph. Yeah, I’m home…” I tried not to stare after him as he left the room.
I forced a smile on my face as Garrett rejoined me on the couch. “Ready for more?” I asked, wishing my heart didn’t feel so heavy.
The flickering glow of the bonfire cast shadows around the yard. I sat on the wooden bench and pulled my legs up underneath me. I could hear the laughter filtering out of the house and smiled. Even with things so up in the air, they were all in good spirits.
It was close to midnight and I knew it was almost that point in the evening when people would start to go home. And I would be leaving. Alone.
Mitch hadn’t come back to the living room. I had heard him moving around upstairs in his room, his steps pacing back and forth. I wondered if something was wrong. I knew that pacing usually indicated he was upset about something. Or pissed off. But there was no way I’d go up to his room to find out.
Once upon a time I’d go crawl under the covers with Mitch and we’d cuddle and watch movies until we passed out.
“Is this seat taken?”
I startled and looked up in shock to find Mitch standing just behind me. His hands were shoved into his pockets. He looked hesitant, shifting uneasily on his feet.
“Uh. No,” I said, moving over so he could sit down.
Mitch came around and sat down beside me, our arms brushed against each other then separated. Pulled apart.
“You found my hiding spot,” I laughed. I sounded so incredibly fake.
“Sorry. I can go if you want to be alone,” Mitch offered, starting to stand up.
“No,” I said quickly, grabbing his wrist. He tensed under my grip and I hastily dropped my hand. “You don’t have to go. It was getting a little lonely out here,” I added.
Mitch sat back down, though he didn’t relax his posture. He seemed as though he were waiting to run away.
If he didn’t want to be out here, why was he staying?
“You missed out on some serious COD action earlier,” I piped up. Anything to get rid of this horrible silence.
“Oh yeah? Well damn. Maybe next time,” he commented, sounding a little distracted.
“Sure,” I said and then the damn quiet descended again.
All I could hear was the crackling of embers and the ragged sound of my breathing. Or was it Mitch? Perhaps it was both of us struggling to breathe through all the tension.
“Do you feel the déjà vu too?” he asked softly, looking into the fire. The flames leapt upwards, towards the sky, the smoke heavy and thick in the air.
“Yeah, it does feel a lot like old times,” I agreed just as softly.
Then nothing. We had become very bad at this whole small talk thing.
“Are you glad to be back?” I asked him. It seemed a safe enough topic.
Mitch shrugged. “I’m not sure yet,” he answered truthfully, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.
“Well, maybe we could just sit awhile and figure it out,” I suggested lightly, all the while my stomach churned.
This had the earmarks of normal. But it was anything but. Once we would have been laughing. Talking about all kinds of things. Mitch would have slung an arm around my shoulders and I would have leaned into him. Natural. Perfect.
But now we sat rigid, unsure how to be in each other’s company when so much between us had changed. All I knew was that I wanted—no, I needed—to find some way to exist with him.
I missed him.
More than I thought it possible to miss anyone or anything.