Down By Contact - SR Grey

by Grey, S. R.

  But then, softly, she says, “That’s great. I mean, time always seems to go so fast when we’re hanging out. Not that we’ve done that a lot, but, ah, you know what I mean.”

  Now she’s the one who looks nervous, like she’s assumed too much in too little time. I see this in her furrowed brow.

  But I assuage her concern, as I know what she’s trying to say.

  “Time does go fast when we’re together,” I agree. “But you know what? I think that’s a good thing.”

  Bumping into me on purpose, and looking a whole lot relieved, giddy even, she says, “I agree. So you’ll be stopping by tomorrow?”

  Is that hope I hear in her voice?

  I think it is, seeing as when I say, “You bet,” she starts smiling like crazy.

  “Cool,” she says. “I’ll make us something for dinner.”

  Our hands brush, and I come so close to just saying fuck it and interlocking our fingers.

  But I don’t.

  Not today.

  Reality Bites

  Holy crap, I’m pretty sure Zane almost held my hand earlier tonight when our fingers touched out on the trail.

  I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  I mean, I’m thrilled, yeah, because I definitely like and am attracted to him.

  But I have my reservations.

  I think about those reservations as I lie in the big bed he bought for me, alone and confused.

  I wanted him to hold my hand, desperately so, but a part of me truly believes it’s not a good idea to start something.

  Even though one of my little fantasies came true tonight—Zane and I took a stroll through the surrounding forest—I need to keep things in perspective. Fantasizing about him is one thing, but reality is something else entirely.

  We’re far too different.

  Even his upbringing was the polar opposite of mine.

  His was stable while mine was chaotic.

  So yeah, it’d never work.

  Why set myself up for heartbreak?

  He’s a man, and if I were to make a move, I’m sure he’d go with it.

  But I would never want just sex from Zane Tinsbury.

  If it were to happen, I’d want a relationship.

  I’m that way now, especially after my previous reckless decision—Neil.

  Nevertheless, despite all of my reservations and back-and-forth on the subject, I’m starting to long for something more with Zane. I mean, it’s hard not to. I’m lonely, damn it. Plus, it’s too easy with him. We’re already working on such a good foundation—we definitely have chemistry, we get along well, and there’s a friendship blossoming.

  Still, let’s be realistic.

  There are a lot of negatives to consider, as well—I’m on the run, I have an ex chasing after me, I have nothing of value to offer in a relationship, and, most of all, I’m not good enough for a man like Zane.

  I just don’t deserve that kind of happiness.

  Rolling onto my side, I punch the pillow in frustration.

  “Quit being stupid, Morgan,” I hiss as tears fill my eyes. “You’re not some schoolgirl with a crush.”

  I’m not a schoolgirl, that’s true.

  But unfortunately I do have a crush on Zane.

  It’s just that he’s so perfect for me in so many ways.

  “But he’s not yours,” I remind my foolish self. “And he never will be.”

  Better to focus on just being his friend for now and then move on when the time comes.

  Yes, there will come a day when I leave and never see Zane Tinsbury ever again.

  But why does that break my heart?

  A Night Out

  The rest of the week continues in much the same way as the early part of it did—I attend practice, chat with the guys in the locker room (where I’m careful not to say anything about Morgan, seeing as I’m not sure what’s going on, and there’s the fact that she’s lying low), and spend time at my under-construction house with my new housemate.

  Those times are turning out to be the best.

  Morgan and I eat dinner pretty much every day, usually shortly after I arrive, and even if there are still contractors on the premises.

  By the time we’re done, they’re usually gone.

  I then make a point to walk around to see what progress was made for that day.

  Man, the place is really coming together.

  Morgan usually pads along with me on my daily walk-throughs.

  She joined me yesterday, and she’s with me again today as we step outside onto a huge gray flagstone patio that extends off the back of the house and into the yard.

  Glancing around, I say, “Looks like the contractor and his workers finished out here today.”

  “Now this is a patio,” Morgan says, gesturing to the stone seating around the edges, the big barbecue area, and the giant fire pit in the center.

  “It is,” I agree, nodding and feeling satisfied with the way everything has turned out.

  I then share with Morgan, “I’m having patio furniture delivered tomorrow morning, so we can eat out here whenever we want. Oh, and I ordered a couple of Adirondack chairs for in front of the fire pit. I figured some evening, especially now that the nights are getting a little cooler, we can build a roaring fire out here.”

  Expectantly, Morgan raises a brow. “Can we do that tomorrow evening? That sounds fun. It’d be a cool thing to do on a Saturday night.”

  “It would,” I concur, smiling. “And we can definitely do that. I’m having wood delivered, so let’s officially make it a…plan.”

  I’m careful not to say the word “date,” even just in fun.

  Morgan, seemingly just happy I’m up for it, claps her hands. “Perfect! I can’t wait.”

  “It’ll be a nice change,” I add.

  Though more progress inside the house has been made, we generally spend our time in the kitchen, often seated on the stools and talking at the island.

  We also take a lot of walks through the woods, going all the way down to the stream most days.

  Morgan really seems to love those peaceful strolls.

  Hell, I do too.

  But it’s true that the patio will add a little variety.

  Not that we really need it.

  It seems we always have a blast, no matter what we’re doing. Morgan is just so damn easy to be around. She’s like one of those people you meet in life who you feel like you’ve known forever.

  That doesn’t happen often, so I’m savoring every minute of it.

  Speaking of my new friend, Morgan, hands on her hips and looking sexy in cutoff jean shorts and a flouncy white top, asks, “So what do you want to do tonight?”

  Smiling slyly, I say, “How about we go to a movie?”

  “Wait, go to a movie?” She looks confused but also concerned. “Do you mean, like, outside of the house?”

  Yesterday, the living room was completed, and a large ultra-high-def TV now adorns a wall. There’s also a new plush tan leather sofa, matching easy chair, and coffee table. The rest of the furniture is set to arrive next week.

  But tonight I do indeed mean we should see a movie outside of the house.

  I tell her as much.

  Dropping her hands from her hips to her sides, she blows out a breath, looking defeated.

  “What?” I ask.

  “It’s just that the closest movie theater is in Newark. That’s right in the heart of town, Zane.” She sighs. “I just don’t think it would be a good idea.”

  She’s worried about her ex, I know, but I have this covered.

  Shaking my head, I explain, “I was thinking something more along the lines of a drive-in movie. There’s one out in the middle of nowhere that’s just a little east of here. We’d be in my Escalade too, where the windows are tinted. I mean, we’ll be able to watch the movie just fine, but no one can see in.”

  Her gorgeous green eyes light up. “Crap, you’re right. I never thought of that. I bet that would work. And it sure wo
uld be amazing to go out in a safe way.”

  “It will be safe,” I assure her. “Plus”—I eye her meaningfully—“you’ll be with me. I would never let anything bad happen to you.”

  She knows I’ll protect her.

  How could I not?

  That’s just me.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I do know that.”

  We both look at each other, and something passes between us, like an acknowledgment that there is real possibility with us.

  I smile, but Morgan, clearing her throat, looks away.

  Ah, that’s okay.

  She’s not ready yet.

  I’ll wait.

  Softly, she asks, “So what’s playing at this drive-in?”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I say, “Some kind of romantic comedy for the first movie, and then I think there’s something scary after that. Is that okay?”

  “Uh-huh.” She nods quickly. “I like both genres.”

  “Great. So a drive-in it is, then?”

  “Yes.” She smiles. “Let’s do it.”

  Baby steps, I remind myself when Morgan heads inside to grab a light jacket. Don’t push her.

  As we’re on our way to the drive-in, I glance over at her.

  It’s so obvious she’s excited to be out of the house. She’s tapping one sneakered foot and humming along to a classic rock song that’s playing on the stereo in the background.

  “Do you want me to turn it up?” I ask, my fingers hovering above the volume control on the steering wheel.

  “Sure,” she responds. “Maybe just a little.”

  “Ha! A little, my ass.” I pump up the volume, and a few seconds later we’re both belting out the lyrics along with the band.

  I don’t even care that I have a bad singing voice.

  Hers, on the other hand, is pretty good.

  As the song comes to a raucous end, we reach the drive-in.

  “Ooh, just in time.” Morgan giggles.

  Turning the volume down, I remark, “You sounded good. Me, though…” I laugh heartily.

  “You sounded just fine, Zane,” she says, trying to sound sincere.

  Still chuckling as I turn into the drive-in entrance, I rumble up to the old-time ticket booth and come to a stop.

  Peering over at her, I say, “Now I know for sure you’ve been spending too much time inside that house.”

  Her eyes meet mine. “Yeah, why do you say that?”

  “Well, if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that I do not have a good singing voice.”

  As I turn to buy our tickets from the gangly kid in the booth, I hear her say softly, “But you still sang along, making it fun.”

  Damn, she’s so sweet.

  As the kid hands me back two ticket stubs and my change, I tuck everything into the pocket in my cargo shorts and drive on.

  “Where do you want to park?” I ask Morgan as I start up the far side of several large gravel rows of, at the moment, many empty spaces.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I think toward the front, but maybe off to the side a little. That way we’ll have a good view, but we won’t be too conspicuous.”

  Ah, she’s still worried about her ex.

  I’m sure he’s not at the drive-in, but to make her feel comfortable, I park in the second row, last spot on the right.

  “How’s this?” I ask as I cut the ignition.

  “This is good.”

  It’s getting dark, but we have a little time before the first movie starts, so I ask, “Do you want me to go to the concession stand and buy us a tub of popcorn?”

  Morgan’s eyes widen. “Ooh, yes, one with lots of butter.”

  I have to chuckle. “You got it.”

  She then asks quietly, “Can we get soft drinks too?”

  She’s so cute.

  “Of course.”

  I’ll buy her anything she wants. She’s looking far less malnourished, and that’s because she actually eats more than crackers and chips these days.

  Morgan is still small and petite, but her cheeks are filling in, and there’s a healthy glow to her skin that wasn’t there before.

  Smiling as I think about these positive changes, I hop out of the SUV and stride off to the concession stand, which is really just a one-story cement block building painted seafoam green.

  As full darkness falls, I return with our provisions.

  We place our soft drinks in the cupholders in the console of the SUV and jam the popcorn tub in front.

  “There, I think we’re set,” I declare.

  “Just in time too.” Morgan points to the big drive-in screen as it comes to life.

  “Ah, yes, just in time.”

  Sinking down into our seats, we are ready for the show.

  Taking a Chance

  I feel like I’m out on a date with Zane. I mean, here we are side by side in his SUV, watching a romantic comedy on the big screen.

  Hmmm, I’m liking this drive-in movie idea more and more.

  I’m probably grinning.

  Yes, I am.

  Good thing the movie is funny. I have an excuse for the perpetual smile on my face.

  Zane looks happy too.

  I love the hearty laugh he belts out during a particularly hilarious scene.

  I sneak a glance at his big manly hand as he picks up his drink.

  He’s just so damn male.

  Hoping he doesn’t notice, I continue to watch him as he takes a sip through the straw.

  Damn, his lips are to die for.

  I wonder what they’d feel like on mine.

  Sighing, because that’s a dream that’ll never come to fruition, I refocus on the screen.

  But the movie doesn’t seem as funny now that reality has set in.

  I just feel tired.

  I’m actually glad when the movie ends.

  But I forgot there’s another flick coming up—the scary one.

  Too bad it turns out the next movie is silly. It’s about a beast having been unleashed from the sea.

  I start nodding off about ten minutes in.

  Zane, taking notice, asks if I’d like to leave.

  “Yeah”—I nod sleepily—“if that’s okay with you.”

  “It’s more than okay with me,” he tells me with sincerity in his tone.

  He sure is different than Neil. With that jerk, it seemed everything I ever did, said, or wanted was wrong.

  Zane is just so easy to be with.

  I wish I could have more with him.

  He starts the engine, dimming to just the parking lights so we don’t disturb people still watching the movie.

  When we eventually turn onto the main road, leaving the drive-in behind, he flips on the headlights.

  I then do something crazy—I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

  I don’t know why I’m taking a chance like this.

  But we’re friends now, right?

  Is this really so bad?

  It shouldn’t be.

  Still, when I feel him tense up, I sit up quickly, blaming my actions on my tiredness.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I’m so exhausted. I’m just not thinking straight.”

  Zane seems fine now, though.

  He even says, “No, no, it’s all good.”

  He shrugs his shoulder in invitation, glancing over at me and raising a brow.

  “Okay,” I murmur, giving in.

  I lay my head on his shoulder once more, and this time he sighs contentedly.

  Within a minute or so, I’m relaxed as well.

  Very much so.

  In fact, I feel safer than I have in a long-ass time.

  Feeling that sense of protection, I can’t help but nod off.

  Good Night

  Holy fuck, Morgan is sound asleep and still leaning on my shoulder as I drive us home.

  I’m thrilled she can be this comfortable with me.

  I shouldn’t have tensed up in the beginning.

  That was
stupid.

  It made her hesitant.

  I’m glad we fixed it quickly.

  That’s just how it works with us.

  I can hardly believe we met only a week ago. It feels like months have passed.

  I guess spending all this time together has hastened our getting to know one another.

  In any case, I like where we’re heading.

  Still, I’m sticking with my decision to let her set the pace.

  It’s still very, very early, I remind myself.

  So, for now, if it’s just her feeling okay with placing her head on my shoulder as she rests, I’m cool with that.

  I drive slowly and carefully, avoiding any abrupt turns, so as not to wake her.

  Once we’re parked in front of my house, I gently shift her from my shoulder over to the headrest.

  She mumbles my name, which makes me smile, and then she drifts back to sleep.

  Unbuckling my seat belt, I exit the Escalade and walk over to her side.

  Carefully, I pop open the door.

  I’m trying hard not to wake her, as I want so badly to carry her up to bed.

  I wish we were light-years beyond this point, to a space in time where I could whisk her up the stairs, lay her gently on the big bed I bought pretty much for her, and cover her in kisses.

  She’d wake and pull me in.

  And then I’d love her in so many ways.

  Ah, but we’re not there. Not even close.

  Sighing, I unbuckle her seat belt and gather her up in my arms.

  She murmurs something incoherent, and I whisper, “Shh, it’s okay. Go back to sleep. I got you.”

  I do.

  I got her all the way up the stairs, down the long hall, and into the master bedroom.

  I lay her down on the soft downy comforter, then slide a pillow under her head.

  She still has on her jean shorts and white top, and also the light jacket she brought—she put that on about halfway through the first movie.

  I debate whether to take off the jacket but don’t, as I believe that may wake her up.

  I do, though, slip off her clearly well-worn sneakers.

  The air conditioning isn’t on since today has been cooler than usual. But it feels a little stuffy, so I open a window about halfway to let in some fresh air.