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There is a special place in hell for people who want to fuck their friends, and I'm living in it. I sat in my usual pretense of comfortable silence like we always do when I come over to hang out. Lounging along one end of the couch with my legs stretched across his lap, he leaned forward to focus on his game from the middle seat. My own eyes should have been on my phone, or even on the tv displaying the game that he played, but my eyes kept drifting over to watch his face. His dark eyes shifted back and forth across the screen. My own gaze trailed down and lingered on his mouth for a moment before sweeping across his body, and stopping at his hands while they moved smoothly across the controller.
There it was again. I felt the shadow that continuously casts itself over me darkening my thoughts and mood once more. Maybe it wasn't darkness looming over me, but darkness right in front of me. I stand on a solid ground of shared laughter, snide comments, and exchanges of trust and familiarity, yet a lingering feeling leads me to stand on a cliff's edge. Staring down into a void that calls me to the precipice of the unknown, the risk entices and intrigues me. This lure of ambiguity would lead me to throw myself over completely. . .Would I regret it?
Would he?
How did I let myself get here? When did this feeling become so intense? Was I the only one feeling it? I force myself to shift away from the thoughts that I've broken free of a million times before, and tuck my phone away, stretching my legs across him a bit more. He adjusts for me so I can sink into the couch a bit more comfortably. I wasn't comfortable. Just the simple exchange of body heat from my legs being on his, with his arms resting across them, was enough to start a war. A ruthless debate on whether or not it would be worth it to get up and straddle him.
I finally force myself to find some semblance of self-control and turn to watch him play.
Suddenly aware of the heavy silence around me, I realize I must've fallen asleep. My eyes are still closed, I become more aware of what's happening around me. The tv is off. With how reluctant I am to open my eyes, I must have been asleep for a while or just fell asleep that hard. Where did Andrew go? The loss of the warmth I felt earlier tells me he's no longer on the couch, but there's a blanket on me. Did he go to bed?
I never stay the night. Should I get up and leave? Should I submit to the sleep I feel trying to pull me back in?
A shadow passes over me then, and I realize the room lights must still be on. A moment later I feel a hand, his hand, go underneath my legs and hook under my knees. The other one slips behind my shoulders, and suddenly I'm being lifted. I gasp. My body freezing, my eyes fly open.
"Shhhh"
"No," I say sharply.
"Relax, Danielle, " his fingers dig into me when I flinch, but what has me still is the way that sexy voice of his slides down my spine. The way he always says my full name instead of just calling me "Danni" like everyone else does, makes me want to clench my thighs together.
"I don't want to drop you." He warns as if he actually would. On accident? Never. On purpose? Probably.
"Why are you picking me up? Put me down!" I'm wiggling, bordering on flailing.
"I'm just taking you to bed. I got you. Me big strong man remember?" He chuckles but I think he's mostly laughing at my panic than his own joke.
"No, no, I can walk."
He sets me down easily, and I waiver a bit when I'm on my feet and realize I'm still a bit sleep delirious. I start looking for my stuff anyway.
"My room is that way."
I turn to look at him, and his eyebrow is raised at me like there's no other option here.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep, I was going to grab my stuff and—"
"You're not leaving now, it's late."
I can't help my eyes narrowing. "I'll be fine"
"I wasn't asking, Danielle."
The silence that passes between us is heavy. My eyes land on my bag, then move over to the door. When I look back at him I know he's reading me like a book, and that pisses me off. His smile is widening.
"That would be pointless."
He's right. I should know better than to challenge someone who is practically a foot taller than me and works out as a hobby, but I launch for my bag anyway. The four steps it would take me to get there takes him two and with him having a much longer reach than me, he grabs my bag easily as I miss by an embarrassing amount. To my shock, he turns and
throws
my bag through the kitchen and down the hallway that leads to his bedroom, all my shit flying out and scattering across the kitchen.
My mouth falls open at him, and there's a fire in his eyes when he turns to look at me.
"What the fuck!"
His eyes move over to the front door behind me. "If you can touch the doorknob, I'll take you home."
"I can drive myself."
He shrugs and pushes his hair out of his face like he's getting ready for me to take him up on his game.
I cross my arms and plant my feet. As a thought crosses my mind, I can't help but have my own arrogant smile.
"Go pick my shit up," I demand.
We stare at each other, just standing there a couple of feet apart, neither of us moving.
