And I’ll be damned if I break the code. I don’t break rules. They are in place for a reason. To prevent shit from happening. To avoid life being all fucked up because somewhere along the line you thought with your dick instead of your head.
Again, what the hell was I thinking?
I need to get away tonight, for my own sanity, yet I don’t want to leave her in case something happens. As much as she tries to convince me she’s okay, she looks exhausted from the close call this morning. Her normally pale skin looks even whiter, and the dull green in her eyes appears tired and lifeless. Even with the warm, humid air, she appears cold, her teeth slightly chattering. A sign she needs a good rest to recover.
The sound of Zoey clicking her fingers in front of my face interrupts my thoughts.
“Earth to Mars.”
“Huh, what?” I ask, confused.
“We’re home.”
She opens the door throwing her keys onto the side table. It misses, and she turns back to watch them fall to the ground but continues to walk away. I swear to God this woman is going to drive me fucking insane with her disregard for a clean environment. Walking right behind her, I pick them up off the floor and place them on the side table where they belong.
Twisting her arms, she removes her jacket and carelessly dumps it on the sofa. She’s wearing a white top with a hot-pink bra underneath. God, it looks fucking sexy. I shake my head
trying to remove my unnatural thoughts. She’s like a sister. Stop it right now.
“You up for a movie?” She plonks herself on the sofa waiting for my response.
“Yeah, sure. But nothing girly.”
“Oh c’mon,” she pouts. “We haven’t watched Dirty Dancing in ages.”
“No, my choice.”
“Fine.” She sulks.
“How about The Wedding Singer?”
She smiles. I know she loves this fucking movie because of all the eighties shit, and this is the only one I can tolerate because of Adam Sandler’s comedic acting.
“But no singing,” I warn her.
“Deal.”
I grab the remote and scan through the movies until I find it. The credits start as I take a seat beside her. She grabs the blanket and squishes in right beside me. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but all of a sudden I feel conscious about her being so close. Her legs are draped over mine, and why have I never noticed how soft her skin looks? My hands have nowhere to rest. Stretching my arms, I place them behind my head which has to be better than on her legs.
“Do you think stuff like this happens? You know, people expressing their undying love by playing the guitar on a crowded plane?” she wonders out loud.
“You’re asking me? You know I’ve never been in love, Zo.”
“I don’t believe you. When you were dating that girl, Kim, you seemed like you were. Even though it was only for a month, you used to gush over her.”
“I did not gush.”
“Sure you did. You were gushing all the time. It was kinda cute.”
“Don’t confuse the length of a relationship with love. We dated for two months. She was nice, but there was no future for us,” I remind her, my eyes fixated on the screen.
She seems to let the subject go and shifts her focus back to the movie. It’s just what we both need. A good old laugh to shake off what happened tonight. That is until she excitedly squeezes my thigh when her favorite scene comes on—the one when the leads kiss for the first time.
On cue, I stiffen up. Does she know my thigh has some sort of connection to my cock? Fuck, it’s on the same route and way too close for me to ignore.
“Why are you being all weird… and stiff?” she notices, her face wary of my mannerisms.
I loosen my shoulders, trying not to look too obvious, but Zoey’s extremely observant. Just breathe. Don’t show any fear. She’s like a wild animal—they can smell fear a mile away.