Hell Bound

Twenty

Graham made dinner like he said he would. Only we didn't have his "specialty" of chicken nuggets. So he went with something he found in the cupboard. At first, he tried to tell me it was his mom's super-secret alfredo recipe. But then he admitted it came from a jar. Mostly because I bought the jar myself.

This time, I didn't try to make anyone socialize or even get along. Instead, we all ate in the living room, and Bucky and Graham seemed more comfortable with the arrangement. When we finished, I strictly forbade Bucky from leaving the couch unless he had to use the bathroom. So Graham helped me clean up. Then he got comfortable in the chair while Bucky and I watched a movie on the couch.

Bucky and I had only ever watched TV one time. We watched old reruns through most of the day. I made popcorn, we had candy, and then I kissed him. He was different now. Before, he seemed more lost. He couldn't sit still for very long without getting anxious or restless. He sat rigid and stiff like someone would be after him any second. The Bucky sitting on my couch now at least appeared more familiar with the concept of family TV night, if not downright comfortable. But I couldn't tell if he was actually enjoying himself or if he'd just given up because he couldn't do anything even if he wanted to.

We kept our distance in the beginning. He was clear about how he felt, but he stayed away. He knew it wasn't a real option, and he didn't try to pursue it. I'd rejected the idea entirely until I couldn't deny it anymore. There was only so long I could let the butterflies live in my stomach until I was forced to acknowledge them. So we did exactly what Graham said we should do now. We acted on it. Told ourselves to enjoy it while we had the chance. But it was gone as quickly as we got it. We had each other for one whole night before they came and took him away again.

Something changed in the months we were apart. They wiped his mind again, and I wasn't sure what he regained this time around. I just knew he appeared more comfortable with me in my house. If Graham was correct, then maybe he still felt something for me too. At least he recognized there was mutual attraction. Even if he couldn't remember the specifics of what happened between us. He must have known there was more than just these fleeting glances and butterflies.

I remembered everything. I thought about him a lot during the time we were apart. I worried about him. I was hurt about how it ended, how he'd been forced to forget me. I was concerned for his safety. And somewhere along the line, the affection had settled into something deeper and softer. Less intense in the way that didn't feel quite as urgent. But felt more important regardless.

So now it didn't feel like I was sitting beside someone I barely knew and had only slept with once. The butterflies were still there. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to rest my head against him and hold him while I still had the chance.

I just didn't know how he'd react to that. He was more to me than I was to him. So it didn't mean the feeling was mutual. We'd go our separate ways again. It was inevitable. And maybe it would hurt less if we kept our distance this time.

I wasn't paying much attention to the movie. I was too aware of Bucky's every movement beside me. But I'd grown tired and slouched down in my seat with my feet up on the coffee table. I was startled when he lifted his arm and stretched it over the back of the couch behind me. His fingers tapped my shoulder, and he nodded his head, motioning for me to come closer.

Even though I thought we should keep our distance, I caved immediately. He didn't have to ask me twice. I leaned against his chest and shut my eyes. He was so warm and so close. When his arm came around me, I decided I never wanted to move.

"Go to bed," he whispered. His hair tickled my face. I must have looked like a zombie. I didn't get much sleep even though I'd been right where I wanted to be. Nightmares and couches were a bad mix. I shook my head anyway. Lying on his chest was more comfortable than in a bed all alone.

"I'm all right," I replied, keeping my eyes closed.

"Go to sleep, Johanna." He said my name with its proper pronunciation. The way my parents and grandparents said it. Yo-honna. Not Jo-anna, like most people did. Even Steve, who'd taken the time to ask me, still called me Jo-anna. It was weirdly personal to hear it from someone who wasn't part of that small, close family group.

"No," I argued.

"I'll still be here in the morning." I believed him, but I still didn't want to move.

"If you guys are going to make out, could you at least wait for me to leave the room?" Graham remarked from Bucky's other side. My eyes popped open, and I finally pulled away from Bucky. But only so I could reach for the nearest pillow and throw it at him. "Wha!" he said when it hit the side of his head and bounced off. At least I still had good aim.

"We're not going to make out, you dickhead," I snapped. "I guess I'm going to bed."

I stood up, and Bucky's hand slid off my shoulder. He dragged his fingers down my back before I was out of reach. That just made it even harder to pull away. And I was pretty sure he'd done it on purpose.

I made it to the stairs before turning back around. There was a question bouncing around my head, but I didn't know how to ask it. Graham was trying to find the page he'd lost when he dropped his book, but Bucky had his eyes on me. And it looked like he knew exactly what question I wanted to ask. But even if I could get the words out, he wouldn't be able to make it up the stairs without Graham's help. And I honestly just didn't want to listen to whatever comments he said about it either. So I nodded a quick goodnight and headed up to my room, reluctantly alone.