I had a truly severe case of the Self-Awares if I was over-thinking couch placement. Every time I was in Brogan’s vicinity this feeling would pop up, everything was so fresh, so new. Maybe it was the dry spell. Maybe it was his tattooed arms and muscular chest that discombobulated my damn neurons. Whatever it was, it took everything in me to hold on to my composure and keep my ass planted on my side of the couch.
He put his arm on the top of the sofa, and from what I could see out of my burning eyes (Self-Awares Syndrome Symptom #4 at work) his fingers curled naturally into a fist near my shoulder. If I moved a couple of inches to my right, he’d technically be putting his arm around me. With this realization, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my pulse picked up a few notches. I closed my eyes and inhaled Brogan’s clean scent and idly wondered what body wash he used because I’d never smelled anything so masculine and delicious in my life.
He shifted toward me, and my pulse ticked against my temple in rapid rhythm. “Let me get this straight. They send all these people to detention and then leave them alone? That sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“It was the eighties, what do you expect?” Okay, so I wasn’t even a blip on my parents’ radar in that decade, but I’d heard stories from my mom. And, according to her, the movies weren’t too far from the truth. I used this opportunity to reposition myself, making sure to put myself a little farther from Brogan and out of the dreaded crack. His gaze focused on the spot I’d just moved from, and I’d give up every couch make out session from my past to know what he was thinking at this exact moment. “Plus, what kind of story would it be if they couldn’t conspire against the principal?”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have horrible taste in movies?”
“Quite the contrary. I always picked the flicks for movie night when I was in college. People trusted me with this important decision.”
A wry smile twisted his lips, and he sat back against the couch. “Under duress? Or did you break into their house and take over their living room, too?” He bumped his knee into mine and let out a low chuckle that rumbled in my chest.
I stared down at his sweats where they’d just connected with my leg, then took a quick glance up his chest, finally ending at his strong stubbled jaw. His tongue slid over his lips and his eyes twinkled with playfulness when he looked at me. He cracked an easy smile and his dimples made a reappearance.
Hello, lady parts? Are you there? Nope, no answer, most likely due to the fact the rubble of my ovaries was scattered over a ten-mile radius. Seriously, how was this guy single?
A 180 pound wall of pure muscle sat next to me with a few shreds of clothing in the way. Was it getting hot in here? The coffee from his French press must be giving me hallucinations. Brogan Starr actually loosening up and…flirting?
I decided the best thing to do was to ignore it and keep my cool. “Ha. Ha.” I gave my best eye roll and focused my gaze back to the movie. “Just keep watching. I assure you, you’ll change your mind.”
He folded his arms, putting his tattoos on full display, although from my non-obvious peripheral ogling, I couldn’t make out any specifics, just swirls of black ink against his skin. Teen me would high-five present-day me for this moment, aside from the fact that it was my boss and we were in this weird pity-Netflix time warp.
“Wait, now they’re just toking up in school? What about the essay?”
“Loosen up, Starr. They’ll get there. They have to realize how pigheaded they’ve been toward each other first.” Because if this movie taught me one thing as a teen, it was that people were more than the front they put on for other people. Just like there was more to Brogan than his hundreds of rules and CEO title.
“That Andy dude’s father deserves to be punched in the face.” He scowled. Brogan leaned forward, his forearms resting on his legs as he watched, transfixed. Crappy movie choice, my ass. He was totally into it.
I smiled. “That he does.”
The last few minutes of the film played on the big screen, and I sighed. This movie never got old, no matter how many times I watched it.
“Isn’t that the best?” Claire had just given John her earring, and all was right in the world of the best detention ever known to mankind.
“I…have no words.” He said, still staring at the TV in what looked to be horror.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” I joked.
His gaze flicked to mine, and my breath caught in my throat at the intensity of his eyes. “We aren’t friends. I’m your boss.” I couldn’t ignore the heat in his expression, the same flicker I saw the day my sweater fell victim to Betsy. I’d give anything for him to push me down on the couch and make me forget my name.
“Right. It was just an expression.” I cleared my throat and shook off thoughts of couch fornication.