Page 34 of Here's to Now

“How aboutAmerican Horror Story?” Haley asks, perched on the edge of the couch as she clicks through Netflix, trying to find something else for us to watch.

I’ve been here for two and a half hours now. We ate, watched a movie, and are now attempting to find a show to start. It seems the longer we sit on the same couch together, the closer we inch toward one another. After starting on opposite ends, we’re now side by side on the middle cushion. Each time one of us got up to use the bathroom or grab more water, we returned to a different spot, naturally floating toward one another and somehow meeting perfectly in the middle.

“Have you seen it?” she asks.

“Nope. Wanna give it a shot?”

“I don’t know… It looks scary.”

I glance over at her, watching as she works her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes wide as she stares at the creepy image filling the television screen. “You okay with scary?” I prod.

“Sometimes,” she admits. I think back to her opening the door in a Disney sweater. Anything with horror in the title doesn’t fit Haley, but I think it’s cute she’s trying to be brave. “If this show doesn’t have creepy kids, I’m good. They freak me out the most.”

“We won’t know unless we try,” I encourage.

“True.” She relaxes back in her spot next to me, arranging the blanket she’s been using so it covers us both. “But you have to promise not to make fun of me if I scream or can’t sleep tonight.”

Laughing, I slip an arm around her and pull her closer, rubbing small circles on her shoulder with my thumb. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to fend off the creepy kids.”

I push down everything in me that’s saying,Why are you touching her like this? Stop touching her.

Because I don’twantto stop touching her. It feels good.Shefeels good.

She peers up at me. “You will, huh? Who said you could sleep over again?”

I lick my lips, shocked I even suggested I stay again, let alone assumed it. “I… Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. Besides, I was going to make you stay anyway.”

I refuse to allow the twitch in my lips to form a true smile. “Did you just admit to planning on kidnapping me and holding me against my will?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough.”

She grins in triumph and turns back to the television, clicking play on the remote and startingAmerican Horror Story. We’re bathed in darkness as the screen remains black, the little icon circling and circling. I can feel every inch of her plastered against me. She’s soft, comfortable. Too comfortable. And now, again, all I can think of is the way this could go. I mean, the situation is perfect for a hot and heavy make-out session, something I wouldn’t dream of turning down.

Oh crap. No. No, Gaige. Step away from her. Focus on something else that doesn’t includeanythingsexual. You are not here for distractions, purely friendship. Friendsonly.Remember that, you horny fucker.

While the show buffers, I reluctantly remove my arm from around her, not wanting to make this seem any more intimate than it already is. Hell, I was a teenager once upon a time. I remember insisting on watching scary movies with my girlfriends just so I could cop a feel. I don’t want Haley to think that’s what this is, because it truly isn’t, so I think it’s best I keep my touching to a minimum from here on out…especially since her skin feels like silk beneath my fingers, and since I’ll be staying the night again. Despite my jokes earlier regarding her continually putting the emphasis on thejust sleepingpart of our slumber parties, tonight I’m the one needing reminders left and right.

But truthfully, she’s the one to blame after all her sex talk earlier.

That’s it, Gaige. Blame Haley. You’re innocent…for a change.

If I could slap my mental self, I would. I’m a moron.

A moron who doesn’t need any of the complications that will arise with this line of thinking, with wanting.

I focus my attention to the screen in front of me just as I see a little girl warn two small boys not to go into a house. They ignore her, predictably. Knowing where this is going, I check on Haley with a quick, inconspicuous glance. We’re not even five minutes into the show and she’s clutching my arm under the blanket, eyes wide, terror shining vividly.

“What the shit?” she mutters before she jumps violently and a loud scream falls from her lips.

My body shakes with stifled laugher, trying my damnedest to not make a sound. A loud thwack reverberates through the room as she slaps my stomach and I double over, clutching my stricken belly, laughing harder and openly at her.

“It’s been five minutes!” I say once I’m able to. “You’re a damn chickenshit!”

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” she accuses, her lips twisting into a frown of sorts.

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