Page 36 of The Romantic Agenda
“Mmm.” Joy gives his arm a gentle squeeze. “They don’t like it when you say that.”
“You can talk to ghosts?”
“No, but I’d be pissed too if someone said I didn’t exist.”
“Everything seems fine now.” Malcolm sighs, frustrated. “That was probably a power surge. I’ll find the circuit breaker and look later. Let’s just finish eating.”
Joy lets go of Fox’s forearm, laughing lightly. “Thanks.”
“You know what could be fun?” Summer sets her wine glass down. “We should go buy a Ouija board—”
“No,” Joy and Malcolm say together.
Ten
After dinner, they all move to the living room.
Malcolm sits directly in the middle of the sofa.
Clearly left with only one option, Fox sits alone on the love seat.
Summer doesn’t even hesitate, positioning herself on the sofa—Malcolm’s right and Fox’s left, giving her access to both of them.
Joy watched all that play out, analyzing the scene like a long-suffering English major. The empty place at Malcolm’s left is where she’s expected to be. He’s her homing beacon. Wherever he is, she won’t be far behind. It’s unconscious and habitual, and she needs to stop.
She pivots mid-step, heading for the love seat. Fox subtly adjusts himself to give her more space but doesn’t remove his arm from the back of the couch. His fingers hover near her bare shoulder, close enough to caress. Struck by inspiration, she angles her body in hopes it reads as if she’s waiting for him to put his arm around her.He won’t—she doesn’t think either of them are there yet—but Malcolm and Summer don’t know that. They’re inching ever closer together right under their noses, one milestone at a time.
Joy checks in with herself constantly, waiting for discomfort to settle in. Personal body space has always been deeply important to her. She doesn’t think of herself as a special untouchable snowflake—no one likes being touched without permission.
But she does obsess over it more than most—always considering how close she is to the next person.Am I too close?Am I making them uncomfortable? Do they need more space? Should I back up?
And now she’s so aware of Fox, centimeters away, and it’s driving her up a wall. He’s a radiator disguised as a man. He’s sowarm, she feels the heat rolling off his arm onto her back. The flower game means she’s uncomfortable. If she says one, he’ll move, but she’s fine.
She just needs to know if he’s okay too.
Summer and Malcolm are scrolling through the movie catalog. Their words are for the room at large, assuming they’re paying attention. Fox isn’t. True to form, he looks bored. And grumpy.
“Hey,” she whispers, attention split between him and Malcolm. The sofa is close enough that he and Summer’ll hear if she’s not careful. “Do you need aflower?”
Fox’s attention snaps back from wherever he’d mentally gone. She can literally see his focus return as he stares at her, frowning in alarm.
“I’m fine,” she assures him. “Are you? Is this okay?”
He nods. “Yeah. Sorry. I heard you say ‘flower’ and thought I did something.”
Oh. “I’m sorry too. I realized you don’t have a boundary word and got worried.”
“I don’t need one. You can do whatever.”
Joy’s eyes widen, completely aghast. What kind of trust— Who thinks like that? She’s spent years building up her walls, setting boundaries, and making sure peopleknowhow it’s going to be. And here’s Fox You-Can-Do-Whatever Monahan—wild with abandon. She couldn’t even conceive of wrapping her mind around that kind of freedom.
“What do you guys think?” Summer gestures to the screen. They’d narrowed it down to two popular movies: a dark comedy and a romantic thriller.
Joy votes, “Uh, thriller?”
“Thriller,” Fox agrees, watching Joy again. He’s so relaxed, half-reclined on the love seat without a care in the world. His head is cocked to the side, temple resting against his fist, arm propped up by his elbow.
“Majority rules,” Summer says happily, and presses play.
