Page 28 of Seen
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” I nod rapidly as his eyes flicker over me as if checking for himself.
“Good,” he breathes. “I want you to be.”
The thriller is moody and dark. If Alaric were here, he’d be providing non-stop commentary, second guessing the plot. Gerald would be humouring him. In contrast, Neil’s quiet. I can barely tear my eyes from him. The curve of his clean-shaven jaw in profile and the shadow of the tiny dragon tattoo on his neck far outweigh Benedict Cumberbatch’s efforts. I wonder how much he can see, how much he compensates, how much he covers up.
Twenty minutes into the film, Neil prises open the box of Maltesers on his lap. I expect him to take a handful then maybe pass the box over. Instead, he selects one, then leans across to me. With his thumb and forefinger, he presses it gently against my lips. My mouth opens, and he’s dropping it in before I’ve even absorbed what he’s doing. With a not so innocent look, his finger traces the edge of my bottom lip as the flavours hit– melting milk chocolate and crumbly golden honeycomb. When he pulls it away, his hand drags mine across the arm rest, to join his. Periodically, he smooths his thumb across my palm.
Half a box of hand-fed Maltesers later, he might as well be smoothing it along the groove between my balls. I park any confusion about this being a date. A very hot guy is hand-feeding me sweet treats in the dark, and my anxiety is nodding its approval.
The spy thriller scored ninety-two percent on Rotten Tomatoes audience rating. If my life depended on it, I couldn’t recount the plot.
Whilst we’ve been inside, night has fallen. The weather’s turned wet and foggy as only London weather can. Neil’s hand has been in mine for so long now that it feels thrilling, yet unremarkable in the best possible way. Across from the cinema, he tugs me into a shop doorway. “Are you warm enough?” He casts his gaze over me. “Do you want my jacket?”
Warm? This close to him? With this undercurrent of anticipation running through my veins, I’m a furnace. “I’m fine. Really.”
Satisfied, he lets go of me. “Okay. Let me fasten it up.” I watch him fumble for a few seconds. I’m not surprised he’s struggling. Even I can barely see beyond a few damp hazy feet.
“You want a hand with that?”
His dark eyes catch mine. There’s mischief in them. “Thank you. Fuckingdyslexia. Always has to get in on the act.”
I chuckle as I crouch in front of him to help, oblivious to what it looks like until Neil murmurs, “You trying to get us arrested?”
When I stand back up, Neil’s fingertips brush my cheek, settling soft at my jaw. His palm is warm against my skin, his face really close to mine. His eyes are on my mouth.
“Can I kiss you, rash whisperer? Would that be an okay thing to do?”
I feel for my wristband, but his other hand gets there first, and he snaps it hard. The quick sting flares then fades, as if he’s struck a match and blown it out in the same breath. In that fleeting moment, someone presses pause on the street behind.Neil gets me.Somehow thishot swaggering guy gets me. And it’s…disarming.
“They say that kissing a man with brown eyes reduces anxiety,” he whispers. “It’s an established proven fact. Kissing us makes life generally better all round. I’ve heard it doesn’t matter if the brown eyes work or not.”
A beat passes. He leans in, but I’m already halfway there. Neil’s lips, cold from the night air touch mine, careful, and softer than I thought they’d be. And I’ve thought about them a lot. My pulse skips as his fingers leave my wristband to tangle with mine. I edge my tongue into his mouth, tasting the sweet chocolate, almost as sweet as his mouth itself, and his surprised huff turns into a low moan of approval. As the kiss deepens, his hand settles at the back of my neck, drawing me in, turning my head foggy with the intensity of it. Kissing someone who really knows how to kiss is heaven. I never imagined I would be one half of a kiss like this.
When we eventually pull apart, his beautiful eyes are on me. “Now you’re definitely trying to get us arrested.”
His lips are still so close to mine I can feel his breath on my cheek, and his voice is rough. He tugs my hand. His other hand is at his groin, rearranging things.
I’ve caused that, I think. Which is the only thought I can manage. My brain has turned to syrup. One second I’m mid-sentence, mid-worry, mid-nervous wreck, the next…Neil. Kissing me, taking my hand. Blotting all that shit out.
“We should go somewhere else,” he adds, planting a final swift peck on my lips. “Before an audience gathers.” The smile that follows is so fucking sexy I want to smother it against my own. “On the up side, doc, you seem to have cured my temporary impotence problem.”
Side by side, we walk in a homewards direction. Unsure what to say or what’s going to happen next, I say nothing and let Neil take the lead. My lips tingle, as if they haven’t yet caught up with the fact that I kissed him, that Neil kissed me, we kissed each other. So now I know what kissing a man feels like, although I suspect kissing Neil is not the same as kissing all men. I suspect I’ve started at the men-kissing pinnacle.
Neil holds my hand tightly. Something that simple shouldn’t be allowed to feel so good. With every brush of his shoulder, I max out on sensory overload. Just as with every sideways glance, my anxieties recede further and further into the background. Hot. Touching. Closeness. Every car, every footstep, every shout echoes in my chest. I’m lightheaded, floating not walking, two feet above the ground. Too soon, we reach an ordinary corner of pavement illuminated by an ordinary street light, signalling the spot where Neil goes one way and I go the other. He lets go of my hand.
“Okay?” he checks, his smile a little crooked, a little knowing. The taste of that smile is still on my tongue. Thrusting his hands in his jeans pockets, Neil jerks his chin in the direction of the road disappearing into the fog. Earth Bar and his flat are shrouded in there somewhere. “I guess this is me.”
“Yeah.” I swallow, wishing I had the balls to ask him to come back to mine, but knowing I don’t because the rejection would kill me. “Could you…um… would you text me when you get home, so I know you didn’t walk into traffic?”
“I could do that.” He steps closer, folding my fingers up in his again. “Or I have an even better suggestion. Why don’t you escort me to my door? And then, maybe, you could check I’m still okay navigating my way up that terribly dark and dangerous staircase. Then you could make certain I’m okay fiddling with my key in that dark lock and locating the light switches in the dark flat. And… who knows? I may struggle when it comes to locating my dark bed too.”
Bed. That’s…too much. I can’t move at that speed, my nervous system already stretched too thin. I’ve worked too hard to let it snap. “I’m …um…maybe not ready for…”
As panic rolls through me in a wave, Neil’s eyes go gentle.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I add quickly, pinching my ear, right next to my most recent hairpulling spots. “I do. But I can’t do…um… other things that fast.”
“Then we don’t need to.” Neil reassures as easily as the offer was made. “One of the best things about bed and sex, in all forms, is that it’s optional. You don’t have to do it.” He glances up and down the murky street. “Are you at work tomorrow?”
