“Mmm,” is her response but she doesn’t move.
I can’t say when, possibly twenty minutes into the show, but she slowly lowered her head to my shoulder, and her body became limp. I looked over and saw that her eyes were closed, and I didn’t have it in me to wake her up. But now that the show’s over, she’s not going to want to stay here the entire night. That’s just asking for pain in the morning, and I know her body must be sore from all of the changes it’s going through.
Not wanting to disturb her, I carefully maneuver both of our bodies until I have her in my grasp, carrying her like a baby as I stand from the couch. Lifting her feels like nothing, and I carefully walk her to the bedroom while turning off the lights. She already brushed her teeth when she put on her pajamas.
With all the finesse I can muster, I lay her gently on the bed and then unfold the blankets so I can cover her. She doesn’t move from her position on the bed. Completely and utterly passed out, she is the depiction of someone who needs rest.
Her blonde hair fans out against the cream silk of her pillowcase, and her rosy-red lips part ever so slightly as she breathes.
Devoid of makeup and completely natural, she’s easily the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met. A true beauty with soft features that I haven’t been able to get out of my head since my birthday. Because now that I’m getting to know her, I feel myself opening up, wanting to tell her more, wanting her to tell me more. I want to know about her childhood, not just as Pacey’s sister, but as the girl she was back then. I want to hear her laugh when I say stupid shit, and I want to see her cheeks blush when I say something laced with innuendo.
I want to be privileged to her charm, to her teasing, to the way she ever so slightly flips her hair over her shoulder only to pin me with that striking blue gaze.
I desperately want to climb into this bed, and instead of lying on my side where I’d lie stiff as a board, trying not to touch her, I want to pull her soft curves into my chest and bury my head in her hair. I want to feel her against me, wake up with my arm around her.
What’s so fucking crazy to me is I’m not that guy. I don’t think about this kind of shit. I don’t cuddle. I don’t revel in the feel of a woman resting on my shoulder. I don’t have it in me to explore these deep-seated feelings that develop into more.
I still remember asking Marge for a hug on one of the bad days not long after my mom passed away. I’d nearly cried at school because I missed my mom so much. I’d seen Marge hug her girls, and I desperately craved a hug. Mom had been the best hugger. But Marge had turned to me, looking . . . horrified. I can still hear her quiet yet firm words. “I’m not your mom, Eli. I can’t . . . well, I shouldn’t give you hugs. You’re a boy and don’t need them.” She then sent me away to the barn. I’d felt . . . banished. Disciplined. Simply for asking for affection.
I think that was the moment I first believed feelings equated to weakness. That it was weak to look for affection. As a defense mechanism, I guess I shut those thoughts down, avoided looking for affection, and I’ve done a good job of it so far.
Until Penny cried for me today.
I turn away from her and head back to the living room. Is that what this is?
I need to go for a walk to clear my mind. That will help. I can’t search for something I decided I didn’t need many years ago. Fuck. Things just got intense today with sharing, that’s all.
Nothing else.
I’m not falling for her.
I’m not wishing for her affection.
Nope.
“You’re late,” Taters says as he joins me on the bikes, where I’m warming up my legs.
“Had a therapy appointment today that I couldn’t miss,” I answer.
“Couldn’t miss? You say that as if you needed it.”
“I did,” I say as I push a little harder on the bike.
Taters’s voice grows with concern. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I slow down the bike and glance over my shoulder to ensure we’re the only ones in here. All the guys are already in the locker room getting ready for our last home game of the season. With a wild card berth already assured for us, we’ll take it easy tonight. “Just had to talk through some things. The other day, I told Penny about my mom and growing up. It opened some wounds that made me feel confused, and I wanted to work through that shit.”
“Confused in what way?”
Instead of pedaling, we’re both just sitting on the bikes now, talking. I push my hand through my hair and say, “Well, after we spoke, I started to have these feelings toward Penny, the type of stuff I don’t think about. I had this overwhelming urge to hold her, cuddle into her, protect her in a way I’ve never thought of before.”