Push & Pull(8)

“And you’re in pajamas. Did you drive here like that?” I asked giving him the once over. His flannel bottoms slouched casually on his hips and his gray v-neck pulled against his chest. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was drunk.

“Yes ma’am.” He gave a brief twirl before winking, “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”

“I’m confused, really. If this is your way of staying the night, it’s not working.” My arms folded defensively across my chest as I attempted to look serious. I was, but a part of me was laughing at this ridiculous display. I rested the wine on the table, noting it was a Chateau Lafluer. Expensive.

“It’s not. I just wanted to try something different,” he said, drawing my hand into his. For some reason the gesture made my stomach cartwheel, as if he’d never touched me before. This seemed more intimate. Sincere. I pushed the thought out of my mind but allowed him to linger.

“Define different.”

“Dinner and a movie?” he smiled.

“That’s not different.”

“It is with me.” I wasn’t sure I followed until he pulled out his phone and started dialing. Several moments later he hung up and Thai takeout was on the way. “Don’t you hate first dates?” he asked. Truth be told, it had been a while since I’d been on one. And even then the ones I’d engaged in were for business purposes. “You dress up, trying to impress the other person, and for what?”

“Love.” The word seemed foreign and rushed as it plummeted from my mouth.

“How often does it become that though?” he pressed, drawing closer to me. The warmth of his breath spread across my neck causing me to shiver. I shrugged, conceding his point.

“This wine looks expensive,” I said, trying to change the subject. I grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and began to pour. As I handed him a glass he gave an appreciative nod.

“You need to change into something more comfortable or I’ll look like an ass.”

“You already do,” I smiled, clinking my glass against his before heading into the bedroom. Dammit. What was I going to wear? Living alone and having zero sex life wasn’t exactly conducive to proper nighttime attire. I opened my drawer. Sports bras, tank tops, yoga pants. Yoga pants it is, I thought. Considering the level of comfort I wanted to achieve I ditched the bra and grabbed a sweatshirt instead. He wanted comfortable and that’s exactly what I was going to give him.

When I emerged he looked up from the television and gave a strange smile. One I’d never seen before. It conveyed no emotion but held a world of secrets.

“What?” I asked.

“Nice yoga pants,” he laughed, wagging his eyebrows at me. I grabbed a pillow off the couch and smacked him with it as he pulled me into his lap. We struggled against one another in our playful jest, his hands wrapped around my wrist, trying to keep me from beating him with the pillow. My sides ached from laughter when he stopped, sliding his hand along my ass and down the back of my leg. He looked serious. My stomach started to cartwheel again.

“They look good on you.”

“Thanks,” I said, bopping him one last time.

Jumping to his feet, he turned and asked, “What movie do you want to watch? We have Lazy Daze, Two Suns and a Daughter, and Time Teller.” He pulled the DVD cases from a laptop bag he brought.

“Wait. How do you have Time Teller?” I asked raising my eyebrow suspiciously. “Isn’t that still in theaters?”

“Oh, you know. I travel a lot.” He gave a sly wink before flipping the television on. The Thai food arrived before we finished wading through the previews and halfway through the movie I had nearly shot noodles out of my nose. We were engrossed in our own little world, hardly paying attention to the movie. We talked about life and our careers, though I may have fibbed about mine. And even when the movie ended we carried out our conversation into the early hours. I didn’t feel like I was on a date and it wasn’t a bad thing. We were comfortable. Content. Liam glanced down at his watch.

“Two. Damn, it’s late! I’m sorry to keep you this long,” he said, grabbing our empty plates and carrying them to the kitchen.

“You don’t want dessert?” I asked. I didn’t mean it to sound sexual but he gave a soft laugh. “I mean, like…ice cream or something.” My cheeks flushed suddenly and he nodded.

“Sure. What do you have?” I rummaged through the freezer looking for the chocolate chip ice cream I thought I had. Then I remembered I destroyed it in a Sex In the City marathon. Maybe I had cheesecake. No dice. Cookies? Nope.