Research: Romance

stacks

"So, I was thinking, and I believe it's your turn." Robin's voice appears from the doorway of the kitchen. 

Looking up from my computer, I meet his gaze and find it expectant. My heart flutters at the sight of him: bed head, pajamas, leaning his shoulder against the door jam, and staring at me with twinkly eyes and his hands in his pockets. 

To avoid spontaneous implosion from having that image in my head, I dropped my eyes back to my screen and started to type in my email drafts: Oh my god oh my god oh my god so attractive what am I going to do I should be writing an email, but I can't focus because oh my god...

"My turn?" I answer carefully, slowing my typing speed and narrowing my eyes to look focused on my work. "For what?" 

He hums, walking toward the coffee pot in the corner. Robin turns his back to me as he pours himself a cup. It gives me the perfect chance to openly gawk at him, something I had started to do more often than I'd like to admit. 

Last night we drove around for hours. We got food, listened to each other's playlists, ate ice cream, walked through the few stores that were open, and ended the night sitting in the park where a live band was playing for a community event.

By the time we got home it was late, hence Robin walking into the kitchen on this Saturday morning at 10 am in his pajamas and me sitting at the counter in mine. We had only woken up two hours apart or so. 

Looking at him now, however, only made me wish we had stayed out later. Just so I could have lived in that day for a while longer with him. We only had a few days in the holiday left before returning to work, and who knows what would happen then. 

If you take this any further, we won't come back from it... I won't come back from it. 

That sentence echoed in my mind as he turned to face me with coffee in hand. My heart twisted with excitement and longing for all the unknowns we had set out to explore together, but there was also apprehension. Robin smiled a bit as our eyes met, and each word seemed to fall on me more critically. 

He took the seat next to me, holding my eyes as he took a drink. Then Robin cleared his throat, peeked at my computer, and said, "Well, technically I'm here on business as your very professional associate. I did my work yesterday. So, today it's your turn to teach me a skill for the book." 

"Ah," I nod, folding my arms on the counter in front of me to bring us closer. He watches me with an amused expression as I feign disappointment, "So all that romance was for work yesterday and you're just  here on business?" 

"Exclusively," Robin replies, leaning forward slightly. "Strictly buisness." 

I lean in further, and start to smile, "I see. So, what you're saying, is you don't come here often?" 

"Are you... hitting on me?" He lowers his voice, tilting his head to the side and sliding his hands across the counter to loop a few of his fingers through mine.

Of course, I immediately shiver, and Robin's eyes darken. I flash a look at his lips, linger for a moment, then sigh as if bored and move to sit straight, "There's only one coffee pot and I need to know if you're going to hog it." 

He freezes, still leaning halfway over the counter expectantly. Robin lets out a laugh under his breath and slowly slides back into his seat. When I grin smugly at my computer and pretend to type again, he breathes out in quiet incredulity, "Wow. So, this is the real you. Unbelievable." 

Not bothering to hide my self-satisfaction from getting him worked up, I spare a glance at him. Then I raise my eyebrow, "I am very busy working, being a famous writer, so if there's nothing else..."