Minutiae

Todays

She frowned at the lyric, her pen tapping against her leg as she tried to think of a better word. Fuck. Music played softly in the background and she could hear Lindsey fiddling around in the studio, playing around with the length of his proposed guitar solo.

"A better word for wanted, Mr Thesaurus?" she called, grinning as his spun around immediately at the sound of her voice.

"Coveted? Craved? Desired?"

"Can you say it again but without that smug, superior, sexual tone in your voice, please?"

He laughed and strode over to where she sat, cross-legged on the couch. "Just leave it for awhile. To marinate. Like a stew."

Patting his cheek affectionately, Stevie corrected him gently. "Thank you chef, but you don't marinate stew. You can marinate the meat that goes into a stew so..."

"So, close enough, I think," he laughed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as he sat down next to her, an arm stretching out on the back of the couch, an inch from her body. She felt self-conscious. She hated it. She pulled the cap off the pen and started writing in the margin of her journal, hoping Lindsey had enough sense not to peek over her shoulder. Facing away from him as much as possible, she tried to concentrate on getting the phrasing right. It was certainly an odd experience (though definitely not a new one, she thought) to write about the person sitting within touching distance.

And then he did touch her, his fingers running gently through her hair, separating strands of it and... Oh god. "Are you... braiding my hair?" she asked hesitantly, the words almost getting stuck in her throat. He couldn't. It was too much and not enough and way too intimate and so familiar.

They didn't do things like this anymore.

"Lindsey?" she said, her fingers closing on his wrist. "Please."

"I love your hair," he said softly. "Just let me do this, okay? It's just a braid."

And so she let him. The words on the page blurred as her eyes started closing and she leaned back, letting his hands work their magic.