The conversation kind of fizzled after that as I continued to nibble on my slice of pizza while he devoured half the pie.
"Not hungry?" he asked as I sat my half-eaten piece of pizza on the coffee table.
"Not really," I answered, settling back against the cushions of the couch. "I know I'm being a downer. You don't have to stay and keep me company," I added, reluctantly.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, inquisitively.
"No, but I know it can't be much fun hanging out with a sickie. Besides, aren't we supposed to be sick of each other? I'm new to this whole relationship thing, but aren't you supposed to be giving some speech about how you need your space and that I'm cramping your style with my clingy ways."
"First of all, is it wrong that the sickie thing is turning me on? Secondly, I've discovered there's nothing ordinary about our relationship. I enjoy being with you and there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Plus, I'm not sure you could be clingy even if you tried," he answered, gathering our leftover dinner and plates and depositing them in my kitchen. "Would you like more wine or some water?" he asked, coming back to get my half-empty wineglass.
"Water would be great, but you don't have to wait on me," I said, starting to rise only to have him gently shove me back to the couch.
"Getting you a glass of water won't kill me. Why don't you find something for us to watch," he said, handing me the remote.
"You sure you want me to be in charge of the remote?" I asked, switching on the television. "That means you'll be stuck watching my new favorite chick show that's filled to the brim with estrogen."
"And what show would be?" he quizzed, handing me my glass of water before settling on the couch beside me.
"I've been on a Sex in the City rerun kick now that it's on demand," I admitted. "It's jam-packed with helpful information on the opposite sex," I added flirtatiously, though I kept out the fact that it was Sex in the City that had given me the idea to pick up a stranger in a bar. Of course, the bar scene in New York where the show took place was a far cry from Woodfalls.
"I've seen them all. They're not all that bad, though Samantha is a major slut and pretty obnoxious. I've always liked the brunette the most," he said, snaking an arm around me and pulling me in the crook of his arm. "I forget what her name is though."
"Charlotte," I answered for him.
"That's it, Charlotte," he clarified.
"So, you're telling me you've watched every episode? What about the movies?"
"Those too. Television is my guilty pleasure. My job requires a lot of travel, so I stream a lot of episodes on my iPad."
"What else do you watch?" I asked, switching to the demand channel.
"You name it, I've probably seen it. Especially if it's on cable. Those are edgier and they show boobies and stuff. There's a new one on HBO that's absolutely brilliant about a news channel. There's a few on Bravo and a few other channels I like."
"As long as they have boobies, right?" I teased.
"Heck yeah," he laughed.
"CW shows?" I inquired.
"Sadly, no. I think I'm just too old to relate to teenage shows about vampires or werewolves," he said, shuddering distastefully. "What about you?"
"I'm a bit of a novice. I didn't watch a whole lot of television in college, and I was too preoccupied in high school. I'm kind of just now discovering what I like. I find I'm a bit obsessive when I find a show I enjoy. I'll stay up late watching five and six episodes until I've seen the whole series," I admitted, starting a Sex in the City episode where I had left off.
"That sounds like me too," he said, pulling me snugly in his arms before reaching over to switch off the light on the end table.
We were only halfway through the first episode when I fell asleep, cocooned in his arms.
***
I woke up the next morning in my bed, feeling disoriented. I had no recollection of how I got here, let alone stripping off my clothes. The other side of the bed was empty, but the head imprint in the pillow made it clear I had not slept alone.
"How you doing?" Nathan asked, breaking through my thoughts as he entered my room with a bottle of Advil and a tall glass of water.
"Not bad," I lied.
"Liar," he mocked, reaching over to feel my forehead. "You were pretty warm when I woke up a couple hours ago."