Fingertips | ✓

nine

Love was a funny thing.

I would put my pride on the back burner and belittle myself just to get your attention or approval. It was what I was doing as I sat on the couch, next to you, with just inches of leather to separate our legs from brushing against each other, with cups of now lukewarm hot chocolate in both our hands, your mug almost finished while mine sat half full.

You finished your mug a second later and laid it down on your coffee table, your slender hands moving away from the mug and tugging gently at the bottom hairs at the back of your head as you gave me a glance.

"So," you began, somewhat awkwardly but I was glad that one of us decided to break the silence. My heart was still in my throat with what I'd just done that I could barely form a coherent thought on how to instigate a conversation with you. This was all I had been waiting weeks for but I'd shown up at your place even though you made it clear to me that you really weren't keen on my company.

I smiled at your attempt, commanding my heart to stop acting so wildly.

"How are you?" you finished, feeling yourself ease more at the sight of my smile.

"I'm doing all right, I guess," I said with an added shrug. "It's just been a shit couple of weeks."

"Oh yeah? Why is that?"

Because you abandoned me, I wanted to say, but of course I chose a much wiser set of words.

"Heather at work has really been drilling me. I hate holiday season." I rolled my eyes to exaggerate my aggravation.

You laughed, your eyes lighting up at my annoyed expression. "It's the time to be fun and jolly."

Your eyes twinkled with humour and just like that we slid back into our normal selves, settling into a conversation that didn't warrant the other to have any awkward feelings. Granted there was a little hesitation when you said something that you thought might implicate the mended friendship we suddenly seemed to share, but it was better than the weeks of silence I had to endure.

Time was slipping by fast when you enjoyed yourself and I, Bradley, always enjoyed myself in your company, today more so than ever.

"I should get home. I'm starving and I totally forgot about dinner. I'll probably order in," I admitted a bit sheepishly as I looked for my shoes. I had removed them at the base of the couches so that I could tuck my feet under my legs to get more comfortable on your couch.

Having you sit just inches away from me was difficult and it took great restraint for me not to jump you there and then. With the way your talked, the way your eyes twinkled in mirth or happiness, I found myself wanting to feel what I felt that night. The night we had sex. But I had to convince you that you wanted me as much I wanted you and I couldn't just jump you now. We had only mended our relationship. If I wanted it to survive this time I had to take baby steps with you.

"That's okay," you said, smiling. "You can have dinner here if you don't mind pizza. You said you were going to order takeout anyway."

And that was how we found ourselves at the foot of the coffee table, sat in front of the television on your fine Egyptian carpet, watching a movie. I think we were watching a Marvel movie since you were a huge fan of the franchise but I could not remember specifically which one for your presence right next to mine distracted me throughout the movie.

What I do remember was that when I thought the movie was finished, I turned to talk to you and you held your hand up, fast forwarding the movie a little before you let the credits continue to roll. And that's when the end credit scene came on.