Bound to You

Chapter 10

The next day, when I got home from the dentist's office, my front door was open. I stared down at the knob, my heart pounding. Was there someone inside my house? Had someone broken in and stolen stuff and was now gone again? Should I leave?

I turned and got back in my car. I knew the logic behind the situation. Sometimes, if the weather was just right and the wind was particularly violent, the door sometimes wouldn't close all the way. And if that happened, all it took was one good gust of wind and a shift in the house and the door would blow right open.

But that didn't mean there wasn't a serial killer inside.

I was about to call to police. In a situation like this, I would wait for my dad to get home. But he still had three more days in Jamaica.

But maybe the police weren't a great idea. I scrolled down to Brad's name instead. He could come over, check the house, and then if he was feeling particularly generous, he could make me feel good.

I kept scrolling and stopped.

John Warner. Right there. My heart beat harder. I sent you a message.

You were coming from the hospital so it only took a few minutes for you to get there, and you looked fierce. You had that look in your eye that I imagined you had when you were training for the military. I imagined you doing pull-ups without your shirt on and putting together guns and honestly, it made me so hot that I almost forgot about the potential danger in my house.

"Stay there," you told me, gesturing me back to my car. I stood behind my open door as you peered in through the front door and then walked slowly into the house. It was a long time before you came back, probably because you checked the pool house too, and you gave me a shrug.

"Thanks for coming," I said. "It was probably just that I didn't close the door all the way, but it never hurts to be cautious."

"Never hurts," you said, and you seemed unable to meet my eye. Probably because you saw me in my underwear yesterday. Sort of like how it was hard for me to look you in the eye since I'd seen you in those sweatpants that hung so low on your hips.

Dear Lord. Focus.

"Want a glass of water?" I asked because it was a particularly warm day and you had a little patch of sweat where your clavicles came together.

"Sure."

I made you Spaghetti O's because that was all we had in the kitchen that I knew how to make. I'd been subsisting off grilled cheese sandwiches since my parents left. I put the bowl of spaghetti and tomato mush in front of you, and I could tell you were trying not to grimace. "Sorry," I said. "I'm not much of a cook."

You smiled. Polite. "This is fine."

We ate in silence for a minute, and then you made an odd moaning sound that made all my skin go hot. "This is actually pretty tasty."

I giggled. I wasn't normally the giggling type, but I couldn't help myself. Tomato sauce dribbled on your chin, and you brushed it away quick, looking up at me. "I put cheese in it to mask the aluminum can flavor."

"Ah, yes, cheese fixes everything." You talked about the Spaghetti O's like they were a fine wine.

"Is there anything you don't like?" I asked, taking a bite of my own food.

You shrugged. "Artichoke, I guess. Not my favorite."

I scoffed. "Blasphemy."

You scoffed right back. "Yes, because you have such a refined pallet." I hooked a spaghetti ring around my finger and flung it at you, but you were too quick, and the thing sailed past your ear and hit the wall. It left an orange mark there. "And wonderful table manners."

You were grinning at me, and warmth spread through my chest. I wished it could always be like this, just you and me and no one else, not my parents or Brad or Allie. Just us.

I licked tomato sauce off my finger. "Did Dad really ask you to come check on me while he was gone?"

Your eyebrows tilted in, and you straightened. "Is that so surprising? Your father worries about you. He hates that you're here alone."

I pushed noodles around with my spoon. "I don't think you know him very well."

You leaned back in your seat, your eyes landing on me, your body slouching in a very pleasing way. "I've known him almost as long as you have. About ten years."

I dropped my spoon. "Yeah, what's the story there? The timeline doesn't add up. You're way younger than my dad. You couldn't have gone to Yale together." I bit my lip. I didn't want you to know how much I'd been thinking about all this, that I knew how old you were, that I had tried Facebook stalking you, only to fail miserably because you never updated the damn thing.

"Yes, well, we didn't so much as attend Yale together so much as we both attended Yale in this lifetime. He did some guest lectures while I was there. That's how we met." Your eyes dropped to your bowl, and you smiled to yourself. "You were just a pup then. I remember because he did this one lecture where he used a photo of you."

My eyes went wide, and I gasped. "He did not!"

You chuckled. "He did. He did. Your front two teeth were missing." You pointed at your own mouth to demonstrate, and I felt myself blush.

"God, that's embarrassing."

"Oh, please. Everyone in the class thought you were adorable. Don't be so worried. You've got your front teeth now, that's all that matters."

I grinned big at you so you could see them. "And I just got them cleaned, so they're extra pearly."

You smiled, and it was soft and sweet, and I couldn't decide if I wanted you to stop or never stop. "Perfect teeth," you said, and then went back to your dinner.

We decided to watch a movie after we ate, and I glanced at the clock as I stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave. "You don't have anywhere else to be? Plans or...?" I didn't look at you. I didn't want you to see what I was asking you, which was, don't you have a hot date? A girlfriend to get back to? Something more important than me?

"Trying to get rid of me so your boyfriend can come over?" you asked, leaning against the bar on one elbow.

"Brad is not my boyfriend. He's..." I wasn't about to get into what he was with you. I wasn't about to tell you that I only hung out with Brad when I was horny. "It doesn't matter."

You pursed your lips, but you didn't say anything. I poured the popcorn into a bowl, and you followed me into the living room, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch from me, the popcorn bowl firmly between us.

"Want some popcorn?" I asked, grabbing a handful. "It's the ultra buttery kind."

You smiled at me over the bowl. "How could you possibly have room for anything else after that feast we had for dinner?"

My mouth fell open. "You know what? For that, you can't have any." I snatched the bowl out of your reach, loving the way you laughed before I set it back down. You grabbed a handful quick, just in case I snatched it away again.

I fell asleep halfway through Jurassic Park. I'd seen it hundreds of times, and so had you, as you told me before insisting that we watch it again because it was your favorite.

I woke up when you switched the TV off, plunging the room into darkness. You reached for the empty popcorn bowl, which I had curled my body around when I stretched out on the expanse of couch between us. It slipped out of my fingers, and I heard you take it into the kitchen and rinse it in the sink. You came back into the living room, but when you bent down to get your keys from where you put them on the coffee table, I wrapped a hand around your wrist. You looked down at me, and there in the darkness, I felt brave.

"Stay," I said. In my fantasies, you would climb onto the couch with me, wrap me in your arms, just hold me while I fell asleep, my face pressed to your chest.

But I would settle for what you actually did, which was take off your watch and set it beside your car keys. And then you curled yourself into my dad's favorite chair and closed your eyes.