The Seat Filler: A Novel

by Sariah Wilson

  “Like what? You already know my secrets.”

  Not all of them, that pesky internal voice reminded me, and I shut it out.

  “Um, did you make any New Year’s resolutions?”

  “No. As far as I can tell, January is just the month where everybody lies to themselves about getting in shape, and I refuse to become victim to the gym- and weight loss–industrial complex. If I ever do make a resolution, it’s to eat more chocolate, and I usually meet that just fine.”

  At that he laughed and then said, “You’re delightful, do you know that?”

  “Did you just call me delightful? I’m not your four-year-old granddaughter.”

  “Sorry not sorry,” he said while shrugging. “It’s how you make me feel. You delight me.”

  “In that case, you may delight me just a little bit, too.”

  “Just a little bit?” he teased, moving in closer to me. I wondered if he realized that he was doing it.

  “A teeny bit.” Not wanting things to get too flirty, I thought of a question to shift the mood. “So what is your biggest regret?”

  I fully expected him to talk about the army again, or some part he’d passed on, so it surprised me when he said, “Never having a birthday party.”

  “You’ve never had a birthday party?” That was so immensely sad to me. I’d been pretty poor growing up, but even I’d had birthday parties.

  “No friends,” he said. “I was a working actor from the time I was six years old. And I always had to work on my birthday.”

  My plan had backfired. That feeling was back, the one that made me want to kiss him. Not just because I was attracted to him—because believe me, I completely was—but because there was a connection there and the only way to express how I felt was to kiss him.

  I gulped, knowing what would come next, my heart already racing and my stomach churning, but it was worth it. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

  The smile spread slowly across his face, and I felt the warmth of it all the way down to my toes. “You never have to ask me. The answer is always going to be yes.”

  The way his voice sounded, the low, urgent tone to it, had me catching my breath. In a good way. I asked, “Does that mean I’m allowed to touch you, too?”

  “Juliet, you can do whatever you’d like to me and there’s no way I’ll ever object.”

  With a smile of my own, I leaned forward to press my lips against his.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  That kiss lasted slightly longer than the first one, and he talked me through the ensuing anxiety attack. He kept his hands on my shoulders, and I wrapped my hands around his wrists, holding on for dear life. That contact was another thing to ground me, to tether me to the here and now so that I could center and focus on what was real. I wasn’t in danger. Noah would never hurt me. He had promised he’d never do any of the things that ran through my head before I’d almost kissed other guys—that I’d be mocked or tormented or found lacking.

  When the attack had subsided, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I wasn’t as scared as before. I was still afraid, but not as intensely. I still wanted to vomit at the end and it felt like I was going to hyperventilate for a while there, but it seemed better? Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.”

  “I was reading that another part of trying to overcome this is to challenge negative thoughts about your phobia. If your brain tells you that it’s awful and you hate it, you remind your brain that I’m a great kisser who cares about you and will help you through this.”

  I smiled. Again I was touched at all that he’d done to help me. How much time and effort he was putting into this. Why was he doing all that? Was it just for the part? To be as realistic as possible? This could hardly be worth it. I felt bad for putting him in this position. I reminded myself that he’d volunteered and maybe instead of trying to figure out what his motives were, I should just appreciate that he was willing to do it and not get hung up on it.

  There was one thing he’d said to me about himself that didn’t quite match what I was personally experiencing. “You told me you were impatient and easily annoyed. So far you’ve been incredibly patient and understanding with me. I don’t get it.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s just different with you.” Then he cleared his throat and said, “How was that kiss? Any change there?”

  “I’m not really getting anything from that part yet. It’s almost like kissing the back of my own hand. And I still want to puke and have a faux heart attack right after.”

  “You are doing so many wonderful things for my self-esteem.”

  I laughed.

  “Time for phase two,” he said. He reached for the remote and turned the television on and pulled up his InstaFlicks account while I wondered what phase two meant. “Anything in particular you want to watch?”

  A new rom-com had recently premiered, and I’d been wanting to see it. I was actually supposed to watch it with Shelby, but if I explained to her that I’d watched it with Noah, she would be all kinds of understanding and excited about it. I told him the title and he found it, then turned toward me. “I know I’m no Magnus, but would you be interested in cuddling with me through the movie?”

  Oh. That was phase two. I waited a second for my body to react, but no part of that scared me. I knew he wouldn’t try to kiss me suddenly, and I liked when he touched me. I scooted over to him. He leaned into the corner of the couch, extending his powerful legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. I snuggled against his broad chest, leaning my head against his shoulder and curling my legs up next to him. He put his arm around me, hugging me tightly for a moment before relaxing his arm.

  There was that pleasure he’d been talking about, those happy hormones that were giddy about my current situation and filled me with endorphins that almost made me feel like I was floating. Warmth filled all of my veins, making me melt against him. I really did love the way he smelled.

  He started the movie, and I listened to the sound of him breathing, mesmerized by the way his chest went up and down. Without thinking, I put my hand on his chest, just like last night. Now his heartbeat was solid and steady. Like I could rely on him for anything. He put his hand over mine, which somehow made it infinitely better.

  I felt the fingers on his other hand playing with the ends of my hair again, and I wondered if he even realized that he was doing it. We were almost like this real couple, sitting here enjoying one another’s company.

  And I had that feeling of belonging again, just like I had when we’d been close together for that picture.

  My eyelids felt heavy, and I let them drift shut for just a moment.

  The next thing I knew, Noah was gently shaking me awake. “Hey, sleepyhead. You missed the entire movie.”

  I felt warm and cozy and safe, and it was difficult to drag my eyes open. But then I did and realized where I was and what had happened.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” I asked, realizing that I had drooled all over this poor man and he hadn’t said a word to me. Just stayed where he was and let me sleep and soak his hoodie. I was mortified.

  “It seemed like you needed to sleep.”

  He was still holding me; my hand was still on his chest with his on top. His head was resting against mine so that I could feel his words against my scalp. Which made my head feel all tingly and warm.

  “It’s late,” I said. “I have an appointment early tomorrow. I should get home.”

  I don’t know why I said this. It wasn’t like I was going to be able to go home and go right back to sleep. I was pretty sure I’d be up for hours dissecting this entire evening. And given the overwhelming desire I had to stay right where I was, that was a signal to me that I needed some space to get my head on straight. This wasn’t supposed to be about pretending Noah Douglas was my boyfriend. This was about fixing my fear of kissing and both of us moving on with our lives. I wasn’t dumb enough to think that we could do that together.

&n
bsp; I started to disentangle myself from him, and I could sense his reluctance to do the same, but he did.

  “I’m walking you home.” He didn’t ask, but he wasn’t commanding me, either. More like it was what was going to happen even if I objected. But I wasn’t going to object. He took me by the hand again while I briefly wondered how insane my hair looked at the moment.

  We went outside and the stars overhead were bright, as were the lights in the valley below us. The air was cold and biting, and I sucked in a breath.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  When I nodded, he released my hand and stopped to take off his hoodie. He handed it to me, and I happily put it on. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled just like him.

  He was never getting this thing back. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He took my hand again, and we started walking. We didn’t say anything else, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. More like a comfortable one where we didn’t need to speak and could just . . . be together.

  Then we were on Gladys’s front porch with the half moon out and the crisp, slightly pine-scented air surrounding us. He took both of my hands, holding them gently.

  “Good night, Miss Nolan. Thank you for allowing me to escort you home.”

  He was such a dork, and I loved it. “Good night, Mr. Douglas.” Everything felt like a perfect romantic movie moment that I didn’t want to go to waste.

  “I want to try something,” I told him. I couldn’t kiss him normally without losing it, but what if . . . ? I leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. His skin felt warm underneath my lips, and I stayed there, breathing him in. I could feel his surprise, his sharp intake of breath as I stood there and waited.

  Huh.

  My pulse had quickened, but in an understandable and manageable way. I wasn’t afraid. I pulled back, reluctant to do so.

  “Did that feel like kissing the back of your hand?” he asked.

  “Definitely not.” I wouldn’t have been able to describe how it had felt to someone else—the relief I was feeling that I wasn’t a complete freak, how my stomach had flipped, not with nausea, but with anticipation and longing, the urge I had to do it again.

  It was too dark to see his eyes clearly, but I heard the hesitation in his voice. “Does that mean I can kiss you on the cheek, too?”

  “I don’t know. Try it.”

  He took my face in his hands and then leaned in slowly, softly pressing his warm lips against my skin, his rough stubble pressing against my face.

  My legs gave way, and it was a good thing he was holding on to me. Although, being held up by your head wasn’t actually very pleasant, so I ordered my legs to start working again and straightened up.

  “Good or bad?” he asked, worried.

  “Um, definitely good.” There was no mistaking the breathiness in my voice, the way I was shaking from the contact.

  “Good. I like good.”

  I definitely liked good, too.

  “This could be very interesting,” he mused. “Can I do that again? And maybe in some other spots? To test a theory?”

  “Anything in the name of science,” I said and smiled when I heard him laugh.

  He still had his hands on my face, and I closed my eyes as he pressed soft kisses against my cheek, one after another, almost as if to soothe where his stubble grazed me.

  This was . . . amazing. Incredible. How had I not known about this loophole before?

  He continued his careful exploration, kissing my cheek, up to my forehead, down to each eyelid, which felt exquisitely sensitive. He went over to the other cheek and then down to my neck, and my legs almost stopped functioning again. My breath caught at the sensation of his mouth exploring my throat. I grabbed his waist, needing something to hang on to.

  It wasn’t fear that was flooding through me. It was fiery want. I wanted his touch, his mouth on me, the little trails of fire that followed his lips everywhere they went. I wanted that hollowed-out feeling deep in my gut that was entirely pleasurable and made me light-headed. A good light-headed.

  “So nuzzling your neck is okay?” he asked, his words against my skin.

  “I am a fan.”

  I could feel him smiling. “Me too.”

  “Then you should let me do it.” I didn’t know where this confidence was coming from—it was totally unlike me when it came to physical stuff.

  “Yeah?” He lifted his head up.

  “I want you to feel this way, too.”

  “For future reference, that’s the great thing about kissing,” he told me. “Both of us get to feel the same thing at the same time.”

  “Uh-huh.” This was no time for talking. I tugged at his shoulders, getting him to lean down slightly. I ran my lips over his stubble along his jawline, liking the contrast between his five-o’clock shadow and the skin of his cheek. He put his hands on my waist, and I felt his fingers dig into my hips when I moved to his neck. I ghosted my lips along the surface, barely touching him. He smelled so amazing, that unique scent that was just Noah.

  I pushed my mouth against the skin where his neck and collarbone met and felt a surge of delight when he groaned at the contact. One of his hands moved up into my hair, lightly holding me in place and stroking my scalp, and I sighed with the pleasure of it.

  This was thrilling in a way I hadn’t imagined possible. Knowing that I could have that sort of effect on him. I wondered where else I could kiss him that he’d enjoy. While pondering my next move, my brain demanded to know what Noah tasted like, and I thought it was an excellent question. So I flicked the edge of my tongue against his skin, and he let out this throaty sound that was exhilarating, but then he put both of his hands on my shoulders, pushing me back slightly.

  “You have an early appointment tomorrow, remember?”

  Did I? Oh yeah. Well, forget Mrs. Rabinowitz and Fifi. I was much happier here. There were many, many things to explore. “That’s a whole six hours away. Plenty of time.”

  He let out a sound that was a mixture of laughter and regret. “Please don’t tempt me, Juliet. I’m not as strong as you seem to think I am, and I have promises I intend to keep.”

  Great. He had to go and be honorable. But to be fair, that was probably the only reason I’d been enjoying myself. I knew, as much as I’d ever known anything, that he wasn’t going to push me or try to kiss me, and it made me feel safe and unworried.

  I tried to come down from the surge of adrenaline that was raging through me. I’d had rushes of adrenaline before, but they’d always been negative. This one was mixed with want and desire and made my blood feel too thick for my veins.

  It was a heady sensation, and I liked it.

  “So I’m going to go.” He said the words, but he wasn’t moving. He lifted a hand up, running his fingers over my lower lip. That didn’t bother me, either. Then he was moving to hug me, holding me tight against him.

  Leaving me to wonder why we hadn’t been doing this all along, either. I adored the feeling of his strong arms being wrapped around me, the hard planes of his chest pressed against me, his face touching mine. I almost turned to kiss his cheek again when he withdrew.

  “Now I’m really going,” he said. To my disappointment, he actually did start walking away. But then he called over his shoulder, “By the way, you snore.”

  “I do not!” I called back.

  He turned around so that he was walking backward. “You a hundred percent do, and it’s adorable.”

  I waved to him, and he returned it before turning around. I watched him go, again admiring the view, and then sighed as I fished in my pocket for my key. I will admit that it took me much longer than it should have to get the key into the stupid lock and get the door open.

  When I got inside, a strange mixture of fear and doubt swelled up inside me, whispering insidious lies about how I should be worried and scared and run away from Noah.

  Nope. I shook my head. I was going to do what he’d suggested and replace those negative thoughts
with positive affirmations.

  “Listen up, brain. I’m going to kiss Noah Douglas as much as I want to, and you’re not going to overreact or melt down over it. I will kiss him and enjoy it. This is going to happen.”

  And I was going to keep telling myself that until it became reality.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I made it to my appointment despite the fact that I was exhausted because I’d barely slept. I just kept running what had happened on the porch through my mind over and over again. It felt like everything had changed, and I was eager to see how that would translate when I saw Noah again.

  To my dismay, he sent me a text that said:

  That made me laugh, and I sent him an emoji with its tongue sticking out.

  I texted Shelby, thinking maybe we could hang out. I felt like a bad friend—we’d been just sending general “hey, how are you, thinking of you” kinds of messages. I hadn’t told her about Noah or how we were hanging out, because those were conversations I wasn’t ready to have yet. Maybe that was selfish of me, but I wanted to fix this phobia and it felt like this might work and I wasn’t willing to jinx it.

  She texted me back a sad face, saying she had been so busy and that we’d catch up soon. She did ask:

  And she would die if she knew what those ways entailed.

  And that’s how the next few days went, me finding ways to amuse myself, taking care of Sunshine, going to my appointments, and doing everything in my power not to spend every minute of every day thinking about Noah.

  I failed miserably. He was on my mind constantly. I also kept reliving those moments on Gladys’s porch, wondering what it would be like when I saw him again.

  Because he didn’t contact me. I guess part of me had expected him to since he’d become so important to me, and it hurt a little that he didn’t seem to feel the same way. I tried to be fair—he was there to work and was probably very busy. I guess I had expected phone calls or a face-to-face chat, a text, something. But it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t read my mind. And I could have reached out to him, but I didn’t want to give the wrong impression—that we were anything more than friends who cuddled and kissed a bit.