Any kind of touching is better than none, so I take it. “Ummmm, yeah, okay. Deal.”
He pulls our linked hands into the space between us. “I didn’t really need any help with the poetry writing stuff.”
“Really? Why?” I ask. In my best interest, I hold back using my fake surprised face.
“I was just trying to hang out with you.”
“Well, I did think it was interesting when you told me earlier that you write songs.”
Sean squeezes my hand tighter and looks up with a smile that makes me want to just lean in a little farther and––
“I wasn’t sure how to ask you out. You’re not the most approachable girl in the school, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that line before. Sorry?” I really don’t know how to respond. He’s so damn cute, even though his eyes, like aquamarines, are practically pulling off the layers of my cornea, begging for some sort of answer. Which is unnerving. I mean, maybe he’s right about me being unapproachable, but there’s also practically a mini-airplane flying overhead pulling a sign that reads: She’s so into you.
My stomach is aerial-cartwheeling while my bottom lip is clamped between my teeth so I don’t say the wrong thing. The only way to delete some of the weirdness going on right now is if we kiss.
Wetting my lips without being super noticeable, I scoot my legs and butt over. Going for it. I pull my hand from his and move it to his shoulder, feeling the warmth beneath his snug gray T-shirt against my palm. He reaches out and cups the curve of my waist. The background noise from a movie we’re not watching fades into nonexistence. Our eyes lock like magnets as the space between us gets smaller. The excitement, the anxiety, the neediness burns and tingles through my core. I grip the couch cushion as I continue leaning forward while his eyes shine, then blur as they move parallel to mine. My eyelids fall and a spark rushes through me as our lips meet.
The slam of my kitchen door being closed from the garage echoes into the living room. As if our lips actually are on fire, Sean and I jerk back.
I jump up. “Omigod, my mom.” I whisper, “Um, sorry. Sorry.” I do a backward jog and dive into the chair next to the couch. “Moooom?” I call. “You home?”
She appears in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. “Hey, you forgot to close the garage, hon. Good thing I’m not some serial killer looking for teenagers to—”
“Okay Mom, sorry.” I say. “This is Sean.”
Sean rises from the couch and walks over to her, extending his hand.
“Sean. Nice to meet you Mrs. Hughes.”
“Nice to meet you, too. I remember you. The singing guy from Azumi. I’m in-between last names right now, you can call me Brenda. You guys watching a movie?”
“Stand By Me,” I answer, with a slight nod, making urgent eye contact with her. “Unfortunately you’ve already seen it, sooooo?”
“You bet. I’ll be upstairs if you need anything. Just right upstairs,” she points upward as she walks up the stairway.
Sean stifles a laugh. “Your mom’s pretty cool. She’s funny, like you.”
“Thanks. Cool, funny, and yet, so embarrassing.” The assertiveness I had just before my mom got home fades into a light shade of shy, which freezes me on the chair I’d jumped into.
Out of the corner of my eye, Sean shuffles around on the couch, moving his leg, tapping the armrest, but he doesn’t say anything. I talk myself into getting out of my seat and going back to the couch about twelve more times, but my body never actually moves.
The movie eventually fades to the main character in a scene as an adult, hanging out with his kids, and then the credits roll.
Sean stands and leans against the armrest. “That was a good movie. I’m officially appointing you to be in charge of picking out movies for us from now on.”
From now on. Pretty sure my heart just skipped and swooned heavily to the right.
“Too bad you hung out on that chair the rest of the movie. It was kind of cold over here.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I just got kind of thrown off by my mom walking in when I was trying to kiss you.”
“Whoa, hey. I was trying to kiss you.”
I smile. “No, I’m pretty sure that was all me. I was about to kiss you.”
“Well, I guess it’s not how you start but how you finish. Something like that.”
I smile and imagine jumping on him, pushing him back onto the couch, and finishing the kiss. Instead, I make my way over to the bottom of the staircase.
“Hey Mom,” I call up. “I’m going to drive Sean home, okay? Be home in a little bit.”
“Drive safe!” she calls from her room.
After I put my car into park in Sean’s driveway, he lays his hand on mine. “I had fun tonight. Sorry about all your drama.”
“I’ll figure it out,” I say. “I had fun too. Sorry my mom came home so early.”
“Soooo,” Sean says, “About that. I think I owe you.”