Page 53 of Catch a Wave

“Want to watch a movie … or something?” Bodhi hangs the hand towel on the hook on the wall.

“I could watch a movie.”

Bodhi walks into the living room and settles into the couch. Shaka jumps up next to him. Kai’s not too pleased that Shaka’s helping himself to the furniture, but Bodhi and I outvoted him.

I stand across the room from Bodhi and Shaka, staring at the two of them. He’s leaned back, one leg is propped on the other. His arm is draped across the back of the couch. He’s casual, comfortable, gorgeous. Everything about him is so familiar—like coming home.

“Come over here, Mavs. I won’t bite.”

I laugh a little too hard. “Didn’t think you would.”

“What sounds good? Comedy? Drama? Action?” He looks me right in the eyes. “Romance?”

Romance sounds so good. I could get lost in those bright gray-blue eyes.

“How about comedy.” I force myself to hold his gaze even though it’s like a portal into our past.

“Great, now get yourself comfortable while I find a movie.”

I could choose the overstuffed chair to the side of the couch. Or the love seat on the other side of the room, though I’d have to crane my neck to see the screen. Nope. I go straight for level ten torture and plop myself on the couch next to Bodhi. The only thing separating us is my fluffy defender, Shaka.

Bodhi cues up a movie. He hits another button on the home remote and the lights dim. Another tap and the lamp next to Bodhi on the side table turns on, casting a soft yellow glow across his face.

If this were a game, he could be penalized for cheating.

The movie starts and the first thing I notice is Bodhi’s arm—it’s still draped across the back of the couch which means every time I lean back, my neck hits his hand. I could sit upright like a girl who has been schooled in perfect posture. I try it for a second and it’s just weird. No one sits like they’ve got a pole running straight from their backside up through the top of their head. I lean back a little to try to see if I can look relaxed while not accidentally bumping Bodhi’s hand. Even the slightest contact feels like touching a live wire, sending a frisson tingling through me.

Bodhi’s staring straight ahead at the movie, completely oblivious to my struggle. Meanwhile, I’m worse than a kid being told the back of the sofa is lava. It may as well be.

Bodhi shoots an amused glance my way. “You okay over there?”

“Yeah. Just … getting comfortable.”

“Your ankle bothering you?” His forehead bunches in concern.

“It’s a little sore at the end of every day. Not bad. It’s getting better all the time.”

“Here.” Bodhi says the word so softly I barely have time to process what he’s about to do.

Bodhi gently lifts Shaka so the dog is on the other side of him, and then he bends down and grabs both my feet and places them on his lap, causing my whole body to rotate so that my back is toward the armrest. AND MY FEET ARE IN BODHI’S LAP. Gah.

As if this moment didn’t just put us into some sort of Twilight Zone time warp, Bodhi starts using his thumbs to rub the sore arches of my feet. It feels so good. I should make him stop, but I’m not crazy … sane? … no, definitely it would be crazy … enough to make him.

“Lean back,” he says, stopping his massaging just long enough to toss me a throw pillow to prop behind my head.

I don’t say a word. I should. But this is fine. It’s not like we’re making out. He’s just rubbing my feet. Friends give one another foot rubs. It happens.

A soft moan of appreciation leaves my mouth without warning.

“Good?”

“Mm hmm.”

“That’s good. I had regular massages as a part of my PT routine while I was regaining my full range of motion. Best part of PT, if you ask me.”

“I do PT online.”

“I know.”

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