Page 39 of A Play For The Heart
What?
A slow grin spreads across his face as he takes in my appearance.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this was Sawyers' apartment, not Shrek’s swamp.” The joke takes a moment to land, but once it does, I have to fight back a laugh. Suddenly, I remember the green-colored mask on my face and the worn-through white t-shirt and plaid shorts I’m wearing. Between the outfit and the mask, I probably look like I’m starring in a high school production of Shrek the Musical.
I bite my tongue to suppress my laugh and feign hurt, putting my hand over my heart. “Get out of my Swamp!” I holler at him, baring my teeth.
He laughs deeply, his chest rumbling, and the sound shoots directly to my chest. I want to hear that laugh more often. It’s hearty and deep and feels like hot chocolate on a cold, winter day. Warms me from the inside out.
“Now that you’ve compared me to Shrek, would you like to tell me why you’re in my swamp?” I ask, sticking with the bit.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I would stop by and see what you were doing.” He looks away, staring down the hallway like it’s the most curious thing in the world.
In the neighborhood? On a Sunday night?
Henry lives on the other side of town. Twenty minutes away without traffic. Before I can question what the actual reason for his visit is, Maren and Nathalie’s argument draws our attention.
“He doesn’t deserve a redemption arc! I don’t care if she could possibly be his mate!” Maren passionately yells. “Also, why should someone so horrible get a mate? Explain that!”
“Everyone deserves love, Maren. Even people who have made mistakes,” Nathalie counters. Her voice is calm and level, while Maren’s has continued to get louder.
“Well, not him!”
“Everyone,” Nathalie emphasizes.
“I disagree. He’s an ass,” Maren huffs while taking a sip of her wine.
I look back at Henry, who has taken in the scene in the living room. The snacks. The wine. The face masks. The bickering about fictional fae men. He looks like he just witnessed a car crash and can’t look away. Both disturbed and insanely curious.
“Uh...Are you—Did I interrupt something?” Henry asks, hesitantly. His eyes are glued to the blue gunk plastered on Nathalie and Maren’s faces. “Why are—Is this some sort of Avatar thing? Like a dress up?”
“Avatar?” My eyebrows skyrocket on my forehead.The movie?
“The blue…on their faces,” He gestures at his face, making a weird swiping motion near his eyebrows.
I laugh at his confusion. “No, it’s just a book club and we all have very strong opinions about wingspans.”
Henry swings his eyes from the living room back to me. “Did you just say wingspans?” he asks, like his ears are deceiving him.
“Yes,” I chuckle. “Come inside. We have plenty of snacks.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” Henry states, seeming hesitant to join in on the chaos. He eyes the living room, then looks down the hallway. Probably checking for an escape route.
“Nonsense.” I grab his hand and drag him into the apartment, throwing him to the wolves.
An hour later, Henry has fully committed to the book club. A bright pink face mask is smeared on his face and he sips from a wine glass. He’s debating the power ranking of each character that Maren graciously explained to him when he showed up. It took him a bit of time to wrap his head around the concept of ‘fae’ but once he did, he peppered Maren with questions about powers and the strengths and weaknesses of each character. My sides hurt from listening to him get heated about different powers and who would win in a one-on-one fight. He’s comparing characters like they’re Pokémon he can battle, which is endearing as hell. I watch him as he talks to Nathalie and Maren, his gestures animated and questions highly specific. His azure eyes shine with laughter as Maren helps him scrub off the face mask. I’m not confident Declan would have joined the book club with us, let alone debate the validity of wingspans and sex scenes as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. Definitely not the Declan I saw at the bar.
I gaze at Henry when he isn’t looking, drinking him in. He’s beautiful. So beautiful it hurts. The sharp nose, the cerulean eyes I could get lost in, the blinding smile. Outside of his glorious face, he’s kind and funny and witty. Henry looks over at me, catching me staring at him. I’m nearly a bottle of wine in, so some of my inhibitions have flown out of the window, and instead of looking away, I keep my eyes locked with his. Any barrier I placed to keep myself from viewing Henry in a romantic way has been demolished after our almost-kiss.
The air grows heavy between us, and my body begins to heat from his gaze on me. Maren and Nathalie fade away and all I see is Henry. For a moment, it feels like time stops between us. Slowly, Henry moves his hand towards mine. His fingers graze mine, gently, and my breath gets trapped in my throat. His touch is charged, the soft caress sending bolts of lightning directly to my chest. I wait for him to move, for his hand to leave mine. But it doesn’t. His fingers linger. Subtly, Henry shifts towards me on the sofa, the side of his body shifting toward me. His thigh grazes against mine, and a shockwave races through my body. Suddenly, I’m hyper-aware of my body. Goosebumps break out on my skin, and I can feel my face turning red.
Be cool, Sawyer. Do. Not. Panic.
I’m cool. Totally fine. Cool as a cucumber. They call me Ice Ice Baby.
This is fine. Totally normal. My heart is definitely not beating out of my chest. Nothing to see here. Keep moving people!
I turn back to Maren and Nathalie, ignoring the blatant looks they both give me.I have no idea why you’re looking at me like that,I convey by raising an eyebrow toward them.
