Night On Set ❁ COLIFER

Chapter 27 ❁ Backup plan

Jen's POV

"Hey, dude, move your feet an inch to the right."

I look away from the screen of the TV and gape incredulously at Colin, who's half asleep in the corner of the couch. He's still in the same spot where he collapsed two hours ago, but now he's almost disappeared in the cushions, and he opens one eye to cast me a questioning look.

"What?" he asks when I've still not answered.

"Uh, hello?" I gesture to the giant load of pillows I've assembled around me to be somewhat comfortable. "Broken rib here?"

"And you can't move an inch to the right?"

"No, mister." I shoot him one last look before I look back at the TV, where Richard Gere is climbing up the fire escape to get to the top floor (but in a far more dramatic way than Colin). I'm about to reach for the bowl of chips that's balancing on one of the pillows when Colin heaves a sigh, shifts in the cushions and simply drapes his legs over mine.

"Oh, what, is that your new tactic?" I ask.

"Exactly," he mutters sleepily, smiling contently now that he's pretty much occupying the entire couch.

But I let him be, because I know I'm helpless in my current position. And it's actually nice to have his body heat keep me warm.

The closing scene draws my attention right back to the movie. I have a grin on my face, the kind you have when a movie comes to a satisfying end, and I even sigh when the closing credits roll over the screen and "Pretty Woman" starts playing.

"They were so doing it."

I look at Colin again, who, despite what I thought, hasn't fallen asleep again. He's now staring dazedly at the TV screen, trying to keep his eyes open, and he's hugging a pillow to his chest. The one I didn't manage to confiscate.

"Richard Gere and Julia Roberts?" I ask.

"Totally." He nods his head, and just lets it bobble after that. "Have you read anything about that guy? His wife is twelve years younger than him."

"So what? Age doesn't matter. And now I want you to stop talking, I won't let you ruin the picture I have of him."

"Fine." He leans back, closing his eyes again, but I dreadfully slowly squirm my way out of the cushion mountain. When I'm sitting on the edge of the couch, I bite my lip.

I really don't want to be that person who kicks out the guy who's basically taking care of me, but he's sending me very mixed signals now. Is he planning on sleeping on my couch tonight?

"Look, I'm going to bed," I say, patting his knee. "I don't know what you're planning to do, but— ouch."

His head shoots up. "You're hurting."

"Bright observation," I say, clenching my teeth as I try to find a position that won't send a shooting pain up my back.

"Where are your meds?"

"Left them on the counter."

From one moment to the next he seems to be fully awake again, because he jumps up from the couch and pushes through the opening of the fort. Ten seconds later, I'm still glued to the couch and he's back with a glass of water and a painkiller.

"Thank you," I say when he hands it to me. I take the pill, swallowing it before I even take a sip of the water, but I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that he's still looking at me.

He shouldn't be looking.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing." But then he smiles, which is an obvious sign that he was thinking about something and he wants me to know. "Okay, I just had a thought."

"Tell me."

"Do you want me to tell you?"

"Colin, stop being so damn cryptic and just tell me." I pat on the couch next to me, but he sits down on the coffee table instead.

"I was just— Do you know that thing friends do when they're twenty and neither of them is in a relationship yet?"

We're not twenty and I'm positive we're both aware of the fact that I'm in a committed relationship with my TV. This doesn't make sense.

"Do I want to know?" I say hesitantly. But then I get this very vivid image in my head of the thing I think he's talking about, and then I'm a hundred percent sure it is exactly the thing he's talking about. I shake my head like mad. "No way. Colin, if this is some let's agree to hook up when neither of us is married by the time we're forty idea, there's no way I'm saying yes. That's just stupid."

"Hey, I warned you beforehand!" 

Oh, God. So it was true.

He innocently holds the palms of his hands in the air, getting up from the coffee table. He helps me get up as well before he leans forward and whispers in my ear, "I promise I won't tell anyone. Well, until we're forty and forty-two, of course."

"COLIN!" I slap his chest and push past him, out of the fort. "You're not going to be my backup bitch. Or plan. Or... whatever. It doesn't work that way."

"At least I tried." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and slowly walks backwards, but he halts in the middle of the living room.

Something tells me I shouldn't walk past him to put the glass of water back on the counter, but I still do. And when I pass him, he stops me just by putting a hand on my arm.

The heat rises to my cheeks in no time. Has it been this warm the entire evening? Or am I just producing an excess of heat all of a sudden?

Either way, his eyes are shimmering, and I'm not moving.

"Goodnight," he says with a hoarse voice. And then he leans over to kiss my cheek, but he doesn't pull away, and I don't know if I should, I don't know if I want to, but I can't move either way, and HE'S NOT PULLING AWAY.

Until he does. My legs are jello, my arms weigh about five tons. My mouth is just a useless piece of equipment. Why isn't he stepping back? Am I losing my shit or should he be stepping back now?

Just when I want to say something to break the tension, the slightest hint of a smile plays on his lips.

"I still owed you that," he says.

And then he leaves.

* * *

I spend a ridiculous amount of time staring up at the ceiling that night, thinking about Richard Gere and the fire escape and back-up plans and kisses on the cheek that don't mean anything.

Because by now I'm pretty sure it didn't mean anything. I kissed him on the cheek that one time and it didn't mean anything, so why would it mean something when he does the same?

Except HE DIDN'T MOVE FOR SO LONG.

Or maybe I'm just imagining things now, and my mind is blowing my memory out of proportion. Which, in hindsight, is pretty much a blur as well. Why does that always happen with the things you want to remember most?

Hold it.

Why do I want to remember this most?

My thoughts keep spinning and I'm just racking my brain until I want to take it out of my skull and put it on a plate on my nightstand. I massage my temples, but of course that doesn't help with the thinking, and eventually there's one thought that calms me down: this is what happens when you're friends with a guy. People automatically assume something will happen between the two of you, and unconsciously it makes you think the same way.

We're friends. We share a wall, and an entire floor, for that matter. I want to keep it that way.