That was the problem with choosing a celibate life, wasn't it? One small touch of her skin on mine had me desperately trying to rein in every caveman impulse galloping through my flimsy veins.
Carrying her suitcase for her, I showed her the main guest room across from the family room but was smart enough not to follow her in. My eyes landed briefly on the king-size bed as she laid her suitcase on it.
And still, I closed the door to give her some privacy as I brought my own things downstairs to the bed my grandma had assigned me for the next two nights. It wasn't as big, and it wasn't as comfortable, but I couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief that there was an entire flight of stairs separating me from Molly.
By the time I came back upstairs, they were all sitting down at the long wood table as my grandma served up fragrant spoonsful of tender roast and gravy. It was the kind of home-cooked meal that I never got unless I took the time to make it myself.
Upon her firm instruction, Marty had set the camera aside for our first meal. No gadgets allowed at the table, she’d said. The way Rick smiled, I knew they'd already planned to give us this one meal of un-filmed interaction, but at least they were kind enough to let her believe it was her idea.
The evening sped by quickly, despite how late the sun started setting in the summers. The five of us talked and laughed easily, my grandma telling stories of what I was like as a child when I visited in the summers and over spring break with my dad.
Rick asked questions, and even though I knew he was doing it for the purpose of the documentary, whether the camera was rolling or not, nothing felt forced or uncomfortable.
The whole meal, and the cleanup afterward, when Molly insisted my grandma go relax on the couch so the men could pull their weight in the kitchen, had a warm, steady feel to it. Like we were sitting on a docked boat on a calm lake.
There was a gentle ebb and flow to the conversation, instilling such a drowsy sense of comfort that I felt weigh my eyelids down once the kitchen was cleaned and I was able to sprawl out in the recliner that used to belong to my grandpa.
"Who's getting up with me in the morning to feed the horses?" Grandma asked.
Molly grinned. "I will!"
My gaze sharpened on her face, something I'd hardly allowed myself to do all night. "Seriously?"
"I love horses," she said earnestly.
"Do you love getting up at sunrise?"
She grimaced, and we all laughed.
Grandma got up out of her chair and kissed Molly on the top of the head. "If you're up, you're up, but I'll forgive you if you decide to sleep in, sweetheart."
The easy show of affection surprised me, and it clearly surprised Molly because her cheeks pinked as she glanced up at my grandma. "Okay."
I got up and wrapped Grandma in another hug. "G’night."
She patted my chest again, probably because she was too short to reach my face. "G’night, half-pint."
Marty snickered under his breath, and I quelled it with a glare.
Rick made his way to bed too, leaving me, Molly, and Marty.
Molly got up and walked to the windows, where my first telescope was still sitting. She glanced at me over her shoulder. "Yours?"
Nodding, I joined her even though I kept a safe distance between us as much due to Marty's presence as my own sanity. Mainly my sanity, I thought as I caught a whiff of her fruity shampoo. I wanted to bury my entire face in that head of hair.
"She bought it for me when I was twelve." I leaned over and lined up with the eyepiece, then pulled back to adjust a few knobs on the side to fix the focus. More than likely, it had stayed untouched for years. When I looked through again, I hummed. "Come look. You can see Virgo."
"Really?" She hurried over and leaned down. "How do I know what I'm looking at?"
"The brightest star, Spica, is the starting point along the bottom. Then you follow one more star up to Parrima. That’s another easy one to spot."
She hummed. "They all look pretty sparkly to me."
I laughed. "I'll show you what it looks like on a diagram. Once you know the shapes, it's easier to pick them out."
Molly straightened and gave me a curious look. A silky chunk of her hair slid out of her ponytail and curled down her neck. Before I knew what I was doing, I picked it up with two fingers and rubbed the edge of my thumb against her hair. Her mouth opened with a jagged inhale, and her eyes darted past me to Marty.
Right.
I dropped her hair and stepped back.
"I'm pretty tired," she said carefully. "And I really do want to help your grandma tomorrow with the horses."
My hands curled into fists to keep from reaching for her. My mind wouldn't even allow itself to process what I'd do once I did. As she said her good nights, I turned back to the window.
In one short evening, it felt like this place had ruthlessly dismantled every mental barrier I kept tied tight to myself.
"Feels like we're in another universe, doesn't it?" Marty asked. He was clueless as to what was going through my head.
"It does," I agreed. "I needed this more than I realized."
He got off the couch and patted me on the back. "Good."
Marty bid me a good night as well, and I stood by the window, watching the stars get brighter and brighter as everything around it continued to darken.
Except I wasn't trying to place the stars or follow lines or find the patterns that I knew as well as the lines on my hand. All I could do was think about Molly in the room just to my left.
The water turned on in the bathroom, and I pinched my eyes shut as I imagined her washing her face, then changing into whatever it was that she slept in before she slid between the sheets of the bed that was normally mine.
Nothing here felt normal.
And most disconcerting of all was how much I wasn't bothered by it.
There was no checklist and no schedule.
No rules to follow, other than the self-imposed ones. That lack of structure should have made me feel uncomfortable. But instead of discomfort coursing through me, it was restlessness.
An edgy sort of energy that had no outlet. It was the way I felt before a game. On those days, I could strap on pads and my jersey, tape my fingers and tie my cleats, knowing I'd work myself to exhaustion on the turf. I'd tackle and run and hit and find a safe place to put everything that I kept locked down so tight during the week. And those sharp bursts, like a gunshot going off, kept me calm and steady once I was done.
But this ... this was torture.
At least thirty minutes had passed before I heard the slow turn of the doorknob.
My heart took off, and I held myself as still as possible. Maybe she wouldn't see me standing in the dark, given only one small lamp was still left on over the stove.
I tried not to breathe, tried to meditate or calm my energy or whatever that one yoga video tried to teach me to do to relax. Because if Molly saw me, she'd speak to me. If she spoke to me, if I spoke to her, I might touch her.
And if I touched her, I'd lose the tiny, fragile grasp I had on my control.
When had she frayed it down to nothing?
I was around for all of it, every interaction, and I'd hardly noticed her severing each individual strand.
Her soft footsteps padded toward the kitchen when she inhaled sharply.
"Noah," she whispered. "I didn't see you at first."
I dropped my chin to my chest and breathed deeply. "Sorry."
Go back to bed, go back to bed, go back to bed, I wished feverishly in my head. I couldn't turn. I couldn't look at her. Not even for a second.
My whole body tensed as the sound of her bare feet came closer.
"I-I couldn't fall asleep."
What strange intimacy was created in moments like that one. Something about a dark room and whispers. Knowing that no one could see us, knowing that she had already stripped herself of the confines of the day, ratcheted that tension coursing through my body higher and higher, something bright and fierce.
My eyes were pinched closed so tightly as she stopped next to me that I saw bursts of white behind my eyelids.
I probably looked ridiculous.