The couch was across from the flat-screen hanging above the fireplace. In front of it was a white-painted coffee table we weren’t supposed to put our feet on. Ivy said so.
I set the coffee down, grabbed the remote, and sank into the cushions. Seconds later, I kicked off the shoes I was still wearing and propped my feet up on the table.
The back of the couch had some furry throw draped over it, and I leaned my head back against it while I flipped through the channels.
Drew was hovering close beside the couch, and I knew he was trying to decide if he was going to sit on it with me or in a nearby chair. I’d purposely left a lot of space on the end of the sofa.
“There’s a Terminator marathon on.” I motioned toward the screen. “I haven’t seen these in a long time.”
“It’s because the new Terminator just came out on DVD not very long ago,” Drew said and plopped down on the couch.
Score!
“Yeah? Sweet. We can rent it after we watch all these.”
Seconds later, his feet joined mine on the table (we weren’t touching), and it felt like a small victory. Hanging out like this was normal for us. Whatever normal was.
It was a good movie, entertaining. But I could only be entertained by it so much because part of my brain was so focused on his presence. On the way he smelled, the rhythm of his breathing. Every time he moved, I felt it. I was so attuned to his every move it was making me crazy.
Toward the end of the first movie, one of the more memorable lines came up, and we both quoted it along with the actor.
Both of us laughed and went for a high-five.
Only he didn’t let go.
The second our palms smacked together, Drew’s hand rotated and wrapped around mine.
My stomach literally dropped. Like I’d just jumped off a cliff.
Our hands lowered toward the cushions between us, and then tentatively, Drew threaded his fingers through mine.
I felt like I was in eighth grade again and I was on my first date at the movies. I’d sweated through my shirt I was so incredibly nervous. It had taken me until the last five minutes of the movie to reach for my date’s hand. And when she didn’t pull away, I literally thought I was the shit.
“Is this okay?” he asked. His voice was low and reminded me so much of that eighth grader I was just thinking of.
I couldn’t help it. I glanced down at our entwined hands. “It’s better than okay,” I whispered.
He turned back to the movie. I did, too, but I didn’t even see the screen. I couldn’t even have told you what was playing. All I felt was his palm against mine. The way his fingers folded into mine perfectly. I didn’t engulf his hand; he didn’t engulf mine. It was like a perfect match.
My dick went back to its previously rigid state. I was beginning to think this could be a problem.
I didn’t want him to see and freak. So with my free hand, I pulled the blanket down from behind my head and tossed it over my lap.
Drew glanced at me, then back to the TV. He totally knew what I was doing. That was one thing about trying to hide a hard-on from another dude. It was kinda impossible. Drew knew all the tricks, too.
He didn’t call me out, though, and he didn’t pull back his hand.
When the first movie went off, he dropped his feet off the table, and my stomach tightened. I wasn’t ready to get up yet. I wasn’t ready for him to get up yet.
“I gotta piss,” he announced and stood.
When he was out of sight, I wondered if maybe he used the bathroom as an excuse to let go of my hand.
“You want anything from the kitchen?” he called.
All I need is you. “Nah! I’m good!”
He came back carrying a bag of chips and two sodas, which he set near my feet and then plopped down.
This time he sat closer than before. If I moved over just an inch, our legs would be pressed together.
Could Drew actually be into me, too?
Beneath the blanket, my cock jerked. It was still fucking hard. Seriously. Apparently, one kiss from Drew was like the equivalent of an overdose of Viagra.
I’d never been hard this long before. I’d always just taken care of the situation.
But I couldn’t right now. It was like sick torture, and I enjoyed it.
“Second one’s starting,” he said, popped the top to the can, and took a sip. I watched his profile as he stared up at the TV. After a few seconds, the can was returned to the table and Drew’s back hit the cushions. Our shoulders were so wide they bumped together.
I wanted to reach for his hand, but I was unsure.
What if he didn’t want me to?
What if he does?
I glanced down at his long fingers, resting loosely on the top of his thigh. I moved like I was settling back into the couch a little bit more and dropped my arm near his. The back of his hand fell open. I took a chance and reached for it. His fingers opened wide to make room for mine.
“When I’m drunk, I call my grandma and tell her she’s hot,” I said, still looking at the TV.
“In a Scottish accent.” Drew snickered.
“You knew?” I shot him a surprised look.
“Yeah.” He chortled.
“Did Ivy tell you?” I demanded.