Page 128 of Love Bleeds Red
“So-so.” She joins me, tucking her legs underneath her in the chair. “Only woke up once.”
I already knew her answer. Around 2 AM, I heard her moving around upstairs. Heard the quiet shuffling of feet on hardwood, the creak of floorboards as she walked off whatever nightmare had startled her awake. I’d made it halfway up the basement stairs before stopping myself, listening from the stairwell until her movements settled and I heard her bedroom door close again. She needed space to work through it on her own. But tonight, if she needs me, I won’t hesitate.
“That’s good,” I say, wrapping my hands around the warm mug.
We sit in comfortable silence, sipping our tea, and waking up fully. I wish I had my pad and pencils, I’d sketch Bailey exactly how she looks right now. Her cheeks have a bit more color to them than they did those first few days in London, and she’s slowly starting to get back to the weight she was before. She’s beautiful always, but these small signs that she’s healing are good to see.
Our silence is broken by a lawn mower starting next door. Bailey flinches, and her entire body goes rigid for a split second before she forces herself to relax.
“Alright?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah, just a bit jumpy these days. Want to watch a movie or something? I don’t have therapy today. Unless you have work to do?”
“No, I’m all done with that for the day. A movie sounds good.”
Whatever she wants to do is good with me, as long as she lets me be in her presence.
We head into the living room and Bailey opens one of their streaming services, scrolling through the saved options at the top of the screen. “Looks like Mom was in an early 2000’s rom-com vibe recently.” She pauses on one with a ridiculously pink poster. “This one looks cheesy as hell. You in?”
“Sure,” I say, settling on the far end of the couch.
She hits play and curls up on the opposite end, tucking her feet under her. There’s at least three feet of space between us, but I’m hyperaware of every movement she makes. How she pulls my sweatshirt over her knees. The way she rubs a strand of her hair between her fingers absentmindedly. How she touches her chest as she laughs at something silly the main characters do on screen.
The movie is terrible, as I expected. Something about a wedding planner falling for a groom. But I’m not watching much of it anyway. I’m stealing glances at Bailey every few seconds, taking in how she relaxes more and more as the morning goes on.
About halfway through the movie, during some dramatic moment where the characters almost kiss in the rain, Bailey shifts. She stretches her legs out, and her socked feet end up justinches from my thigh. It’s a small movement… nothing really, but somehow it feels intimate.
My hands itch to slide onto her ankle and rub the soft skin there. I want to pull her against my side so there’s no space between us. It’s an ache—this feeling of wanting her. Not just physically, though there’s that, but wanting to comfort her, to casually touch her like I used to. I force my hand under my thigh so I don’t do anything stupid and fuck up the progress we’re making.
Toward the end of the movie, there’s this emotional scene where the couple finally gets together and have this long kiss. There’s romantic music playing and the whole thing is shot in slow motion and I swear I feel Bailey’s eyes on me. My breathing picks up, and I glance over to see her watching me with an expression I can’t place. I want to think she’s feeling the same pull I am… I want that more than anything. Her chest is visibly rising and falling and for a second I think, fuck it, and start to pull my hand out from under my thigh.
The air between us is charged. Electric. Like she’s also remembering what it was like to be us, before everything went wrong. Her lips part and I inch closer.
Then the sound of car doors slamming in the driveway makes us freeze. Bailey hits pause on the movie and we sit up to peer out the window.
“What are they doing here?” Bailey says.
I’d love to know the answer but I can guess.
Through the window, Jasper’s pulling bags from the trunk while Falin stretches her arms over her head, clearly stiff from the drive. They must have left the city this morning, wanting to surprise us for the weekend.
“Looks like we’re getting company,” I say, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Not that I don’t love my friends, but I could use some alone time with Bailey.
Bailey jumps up from the couch, smooths down my sweatshirt, and adjusts her hair. “Do I look okay? I don’t want them to think…”
“You look perfect, like always,” I say. “And we weren’t doing anything wrong.”
The front door swings open and Jasper’s voice booms through the house. “Bailey! Where’s my favorite sister?”
“I’m your only sister, idiot,” she calls back with a genuine smile. All the tension from minutes ago is suddenly zapped away by Jasper’s entrance.
“Where’s my favorite Brit? You better be keeping your hands to yourself!” he yells as Falin laughs.
Bailey and I share an exasperated head shake, but she seems more joyful than not, so I won’t quite tear my best friend’s head off. She reaches for my hand to pull me up from the couch. “Let’s go say hi before Jasper starts getting suspicious about why we’re not answering fast enough.”
“You’re right,” I say, letting her lead me into the kitchen.
Slow and steady, I remind myself. More like progress and torture all wrapped up in one.
