I wanted to sigh in relief that he hadn’t turned me away. I’d started the hug last night for him, but once his arms surrounded me, I knew I needed it too.
Two large palms splayed across my back, pulling me almost too tight, and yet, I took my first deep breath of the day. I raised as high as I could on my toes and buried my head in his neck.
“Welcome home,” I whispered.
His fingers flexed, and a thrill of excitement shot through me. I loved that I affected him—that I could tell I affected him.
“Damn, you give good hugs for such a tiny girl,” he rumbled, the words vibrating against my chest.
I inched back enough to meet his eyes, and he loosened his grip, lowering me back to the ground. My brow cocked at the tiny girl comment.
“How about a petite woman?” I corrected, smiling, dying a little when he smiled back.
“Fair enough.”
His hands relaxed from around my back, slowly sliding down only to grip my hips while I left my hands on his shoulders. We looked like a couple of grade-school kids at a dance, and I’d take every second of it.
Deciding to push my luck, I asked, “Do you want to watch TV for a bit?”
He looked down to his bag on the floor, probably filled with paperwork needing to be done. In fact, I remembered him mentioning how bogged down he was with prepping for a new course, and I cringed, wanting to take it back to save me the misery of being turned down.
Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I braced for the impact of rejection when instead he said, “Just for a little while.”
And that’s how almost every day over the next week progressed—when either of us walked through the door, we greeted each other with a hug that became more natural each day. Sometimes we’d watch TV on the couch. Sometimes I’d even curl up close to him—every time with the simple promise of just for a little while.
But on Saturday, neither of us had to work, and Mother Nature made staying inside much more preferable than going out into the storms. We lounged in shorts and T-shirts, blasting the air conditioning to combat the humidity seeping into the house. When that still didn’t work, we decided to say fuck it and do a little day-drinking. He ordered a pizza, and I grabbed the beers.
“Just one,” he muttered.
“Okay, I’ll remind you of that later when you want another.” I played dumb, smiling innocently.
He gave a deadpanned stare with narrowed eyes, and I laughed. “Okay, Dad. I’ll try not to get trashed on your couch.”
With a roll of his eyes, he plopped down beside me, flipping open a delicious box of mushroom, onion, and sausage pizza.
“Since you got to pick the pizza, I get to pick the show,” he declared.
“Ugh, fine,” I said around my too-big-bite. Not that I really minded, because he always picked something good.
In the end, he settled on a documentary about ancient Rome.
“Did you ever see Rome?” he asked.
“No. I wanted to, but the only time it worked out was in peak tourist season, and I’d rather wait than fight through the crowds in the heat.”
“It’s a beautiful city, but less enjoyable in the heat. I went twice, and visiting in the spring was much better than summer.”
“Duly noted.” I pretended to jot it down on an imaginary paper and shove it in my pocket. He laughed at my antics before turning to the show, leaving me to stare at him. His smile really transformed him and called to me. I rarely smirked at him anymore, instead offering up genuine happiness.
Eventually, the show pulled my attention away from him—at least a little. When he grabbed another beer, he brought another back for me with a look that said any smart comment would result in said beer being taken away. I mimed zipping my lips, but as the alcohol worked its way through my veins, I relaxed and decided to push my limits.
Slowly, I adjusted, inching my way closer to close the barely-there gap between us. Resituating this way and that until I leaned over enough to rest my head on his shoulder. He stiffened for less than a second before shifting, allowing me access to fully curl into his side.
As if to add normalcy to the situation, he started quizzing me on my opinions of each historical fact the show shared. We debated the pros and cons of Rome’s society as a whole and moved on to Greece when those episodes played next. All of it held a platonic vibe—minus the way my side was pressed to his. Or the way our eyes dropped to each other’s lips when I turned to face him, only to be inches away.
I found myself searching for the most absurd questions just for the excuse to turn and look up at him and burn under his eyes on my mouth. My lips tingled, and each time I shifted, I imagined it was the time I’d give in to the desire to find out what the beer tasted like from his lips—on his tongue. I imagined it’d be the time he gave in and took what I so obviously offered.