Page 27 of A Play For The Heart
“You’re such a brat,” he says sarcastically, looking like he’s holding back a smile.
Henry
“What do you wanna watch?” I ask, walking from the kitchen towards the living room. I flop down next to Sawyer on the couch, attempting to act casual and not like I’m going to jump out of my skin with the asinine plan I let Jack and Deon convince me was a good idea.
“Ohh…I don’t know. Let me think,” she scratches her head in faux concentration, "The Princess Bride?”
She asks to watch this every other movie night. It's predictable and cute.
“As you wish.”
Sawyer huffs out a laugh at my reference and begins to shuffle through different streaming services to find the movie. I scramble to determine what my next move is. This is my moment to pull out something from a romcom. The yawn maneuver is tacky and way too obvious. I could try to inch closer to her, but the couch is massive, and she may think it’s odd if I get any closer. I sit stiff as a board for the first half of the movie, my brain flipping through my mental Rolodex for romcom movies I know. Spoiler Alert: I know very few except the ones Sawyer has made me watch. I really should have watched something to prepare. A crash course of romantic comedies for dummies’ or something.
While I debate my options, I periodically look over at Sawyer, who watches the movie in rapt attention, even though she’s seen it a thousand times. She mouths the words, mutteringInconceivable!every time the actor does. She could perform this movie as a one-woman show.
“It’s so beautiful how Westley has loved Buttercup for years,” she coos, “even though he never told her, he showed her. That’s true love.”
I want to scream, ‘I am your Westley! I’m standing right here! I love you!’ but instead I hum and say exactly what Westley said every time he wanted to say I love you.
“As you wish.”
“Exactly! You get it.”
More than you know.
I turn back to the movie, trying to shake the comment and focus on what I should do to test the waters but before I can even make my move, Sawyer stops me in my tracks. Unintentionally stealing my thunder. Re-adjusting her position on the couch, she leans back and lays her legs onto my lap. My muscles go taut. This is not something she has ever done before. We aren't touchy like this. We hug occasionally, but we don’t lay our legs on each other. Thighs do not touch calves! I’m internally panicking, sirens going off in my brain. I look over at Sawyer who is acting like this is totally normal, meanwhile this is so far from normal that my brain is glitching. I have no idea how to respond to this. Do I put my hands over her legs, or do I just keep them at my sides? Is it weird to touch her leg? It can't be if she put her legs on mine in the first place.
Any person with eyes could see the panic clearly painted across my features. At this moment, I have never been more grateful for Sawyer’s obliviousness and mild (major) obsession with Westley in the movie. Taking a deep breath, I decide to go for it and lay my hand on Sawyer's shin. As I place my hand on her leg, she quickly glances over at me, then down at my hands, and then quickly shifts her gaze away at the screen when we make eye contact.
Odd.
I force my attention back on the TV and pour my focus into the movie and not on how Sawyer’s leg feels under my palm. My hand itches to move, to glide my hand across her calf. Merely touching her has my heart racing, the sound of it thumping in my ears. After the longest hour of my life, the credits begin to roll on the screen and Sawyer pulls her legs off my lap. I sit there, frozen, unsure of what to do with myself. Slowly, she gets off the couch and I follow behind her, subtly adjusting myself so she doesn't notice the half hard-on I was sporting the entire movie. From touching her calf. It’s embarrassing. She fills her water bottle at the sink and yawns three times in thirty seconds. I take that as my cue to leave.
“It’s late, I better go.” I gather up my things and pull her into a quick hug. “It’s past your bedtime, anyway.” The smell of flowers and citrus wafts around me and as soon as the hug begins it ends.
“It’s only nine-thirty,” she glances at the clock above the oven then back to me, her eyes narrowing.
“Yep,” I boop the tip of her nose and watch as her face turns rosy, “someone has a very early bedtime.”
“So do you!” She stomps, her nose scrunching in anger. She's so cute when she’s worked up. I poke her nose again. Since I can't help myself. “Stop booping me!”
“Goodnight,Sawyer.” I close the door behind me, smiling to myself as I walk away.
As I stand waiting for the elevator, I realize I never did anything to see if she was into me.
CHAPTER 14
“She could the Mona Lisa, if the Mona Lisa had a prettier face”
Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa—Finneas
Henry
Islidemyhelmetfrom my head as practice comes to an end. Dragging air into my lungs, I bend over, grasping my knees. The final drill killed the last of my energy reserves, leaving me a huffing pile of muscle on the sideline. I worked a little too hard in the weight room yesterday, needing to release some of the pent-up energy I had after my movie night with Sawyer. The friend zone is the worst purgatory a man could be in and my only solution to the frustration was extra reps. With the way my muscles are cramping, I'm regretting that decision.
At no point did I get to enact any of my plans. Even if I had, the results would have been inconclusive because the moment her legs landed on my lap, I lost the ability to think or function. I had lost control of the situation. What I need to do is reallywowher. Do something that will either reveal feelings or plant a seed. Either works for me.
Ideas bounce around my mind as I strip from my sweaty practice gear when I’m shoved from behind, my body teetering forward into my locker. I whirl around, expecting to see Jack and a massive grin. Instead, I come eye-to-eye with Declan.
