Page 21 of Ready or Not
“Parts like…” she paused, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at me playfully. “Like maybe you’re a little more sensitive than you let on.”
“Sensitive?”
“Mhm,” she nodded. “That’s why you’re so observant. You pay attention to things so you don’t miss things. You care in ways most people don’t, even if you pretend it’s no big deal.”
“And you got all of that from…”
She laughed.
“Somewhat,” she shut the book, leaning back into the couch. Her head tilted just slightly as she studied me again, this time with a curiosity that felt like she was seeing right through me. “Just calling it like I sees it.”
I ran a hand over my mouth, trying to hide the small smile threatening to betray me.
Just like that, she had me again.
Saying things that’ll have my mind replaying her words.
“So,” she said after a moment of silence between us, leaning back against the couch and allowing herself to sink even deeper into its cushions as she looked around my living room. “What do you wanna do until the rain stops?”
Nothing PG rated.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, trying my best not to stare at the way her collarbone peeked out from the loose neckline of my shirt, or the tiny bead of water still clinging to her skin like it didn’t know where else to go. “I got?—”
She quickly stood up and rushed towards my vinyl collection, pulling out a record before I could even finish my sentence.
“I can’t believe you have this,” she turned to me, holding out the Rose In The Dark vinyl I recently added to my collection.
“You like Cleo Soul?”
“Like her? You kidding me? Iloveher,” she said, clutching the record to her chest like it was a holy relic. “This album got me through some of the toughest days last year.”
I stood and walked over to join her by the shelf, my heart thudding louder with every step.
“Really? What song?”
She didn’t answer right away; instead, she turned the record over in her hands, reading the tracklist as if she needed a reminder.
“Honestly? There’s no way I can pick just one. ‘When I’m In Your Arms’ maybe? Or ‘Young Love.’” She paused and glanced up at me with a soft smile that made my chest ache. “The way her voice wraps around you… It’s like medicine for the soul.”
“Yeah… It really is.”
Her fingers skimmed over the edge of the vinyl case before she handed it to me. “Can we listen to it? Please?”
I took the album from her without hesitation and slid the vinyl from its sleeve. “Of course.”
Walking over to my Fluance RT85N record player near the floor-to-ceiling windows, I carefully placed the vinyl on the turntable and purposefully placed the needle to start playing When I’m In Your Arms.
As the first few chords filled the room, her shoulders visibly relaxed, and she closed her eyes.
“You picked that song on purpose, didn’t you?” she asked as her hips started swaying gently to the beat, her eyes still shut.
I leaned back against the edge of the shelf, crossing my arms as I watched her. Every movement she made was so effortless, so unguarded, like the music that poured out of the speakers was flowing straight through her veins. My pulse quickened again as I noticed the way her coils bounced with every sway of her head, and how the hem of my oversized shirt and shorts flirted with her thighs, revealing just a glimpse of smooth, brown skin each time she moved.
She was lost in the rhythm, and I was lost in her, my heart pounding against my ribcage with every step she took closer to the couch.
Her eyes blinking open, she caught me staring for what felt like the hundredth time that night. She didn’t call me out this time, though. Instead, she grinned and moved closer to me to close the distance between us.
“You’re doing it again,” she looked up at me.
