Page 59 of Between the Lines

He clears his throat, and a little color returns to his face from the dim glow of the fire.

“Alright, Ms. Speedy Reader. I have some catching up to do.”

With a smile and the tip of an invisible hat, he returns to the worn pages of his novel, while I do my best not to wonder what’s going on in his head.

We read for hours. I offer to grab us a refill on drinks, and he gets the third round. It’s cozy. Quiet. So far removed from my normal, everyday life, that I’m beginning to wonder which is more of a fantasy: this night, or the book I’m reading.

I don’t realize that it’s nearing midnight until Nathan tells me that my phone has been buzzing incessantly in my bag. There’s half a dozen missed texts from my mom, wondering where I am, when I’ll be home, andtelling methat my Saturday morning has now been taken by various extracurricular runs for my siblings, because she and my dad had a late night and won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning.

I sigh, closing the cover to my Kindle right as it was getting to the good part. No finishing this baby in a night for me.

I stretch my arms above my head, crack out my neck from side to side, and relish in the coziness of the forest green knitted throw that I’ve been bundled in all night before standing from the chair.

Nathan’s eyes are glued to me when I adjust my sweatshirt that’s ridden up. I expect him to look away, but he doesn’t. Instead,the fire from the hearth has now transported itself into his eyes, and I wonder what kind of kindling I could add to stoke it higher.

“I should get going. Early morning duty calls.”

He nods, but we take our time. In the few hours I’ve been here, I’ve spun Nathan’s home into my sanctuary. And I don’t want to go. I wonder if he meant what he said when he mentioned anext time, and squeeze my eyes shut to keep it a secret.

Suddenly, I feel his hand beneath my chin. I peel my eyes open, and see that stoic, serious expression warring with something else. Something akin to hunger lights in his eyes. I latch onto some of the boldness I’d harnessed back at the game and tentatively grip his forearm.

“Thank you for inviting me to your home. I had a lovely time, Nathan.”

His eyes soften.

“I did as well. Thanks for keeping me company.”

We stand there in silence. A sound I’m just now growing accustomed to. The beating of his heart and mine fill the space between us. Neither of us moves. Neither of us wants to break the spell.

I’m about to though. Because if I stand here any longer, I’ll drown in the deep wells of his eyes, and there’s no telling what it will take to bring me back to the surface. But before I can pull away, he leans forward. His lips press to my ear, and I squeeze his forearm harder.

“I meant what I said about next time, Claire. You’re welcome here any time the noise gets to be too loud. Just having you here in my space makes my own bearable.”

I thought his lips on my temple were too much, but now, he drags them across my forehead, and it’s like I can feel the fires blazing a trail in their wake. Nathan seals a soft but punishing kiss to the center of my forehead and stays there, one hand beneath my chin, the other sneaking its way unexpectedly behind my head.

The juxtaposition of tender, barely-there lips with the intensityof his words just moments before have my body alight. My nerves are wrapping themselves around him, and there is nothing in my power that I can do to stop it from happening. I simply lean forward, hoping that this kiss will intensify. Hoping that he clings to me harder.

My wish is granted when he grips my hair just a little bit tighter. I inhale sharply as he breaks the pucker of his lips and replaces them back immediately. Lingering. Unwavering. An anchor before I have to swim back out to sea.

It seems like both lifetimes and the snap of my fingers when he pulls away. The light pop of his lips against my forehead feels like a brand, and I have to remind myself that it wasjust a forehead kiss. His fingers beneath my chin flex, and I’m heated again by the simple touch of him. I blink, and find his eyes both as blown and as hazy as mine. Our chests heave like we just crossed the finish line at the Boston Marathon. Even though our hands start to pull away and our grips begin to loosen, he holds my gaze as strongly as I hold onto his.

“Please text me when you get home.”

As I look back, to Nathan leaning against the door jam, I don’t even try to stop the vision of us sitting on that front porch from flooding my mind.

twenty-five

claire

I textedNathan when I got home, and we haven’t stopped texting since. He kept me company while I schlepped my siblings to soccer and tumbling and playdates—all so that my parents could sleep off their Friday night hangovers and “catch up on things around the house.”

Plot twist: There aren’tthingsto catch up on, because yours truly has them handled already.

We texted all throughout the week, before and after the two basketball games that we both worked. This time, there was no denying the press of our legs beneath the table. I stayed late after both games, hanging out in Nathan’s office, justtalking. About school, my siblings, and the books we’ve both read. He shared about his most recent documentaries, and I even found out that the most he uses his kitchen for is the ham and cheese sandwich he makes himself for lunch everyday—which isso on brand it almost hurts.

Almost, because the predictability is kind of nice.

It’sniceto have him to slow down my pace.

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