Page 109 of No Need to Run
The air is heavy and charged between us. I’m barely breathing, wondering if he’ll make a move.
He looks away first, staring back at the TV like there’s suddenly something fascinating about the woman tripping over absolutely nothing.
My smile grows.
He gets shy when something matters. Like he’s not used to being the focus of someone’s attention unless it’s to ask him for something.
I don’t need things from Drew.
I need him.
There’s a difference.
One he’ll understand eventually.
I shift closer, letting my shoulder brush his arm. He stills for half a breath, then relaxes.
Good.
I like how his body is starting to relax around me.
“You pick terrible movies,” he says after a minute.
“I picked a classic.”
“A woman just screamed at a toaster.”
“It startled her.”
“It was unplugged.”
“She’s been through a lot.”
His laugh breaks loose before he can stop it, and my chest warms so fast it almost hurts.
There he is. The real Drew.
Not the man with worry tucked into his shoulders.
This version.
Soft. Sleepy. Mine for the evening.
My gaze drops to his hand resting on his thigh. Long fingers. Warm skin. The faintest scar near one knuckle. I wonder how he got it. How old he was. Whether anyone kissed it better.
My fingers twitch.
I want to know all of him. Every scar. Every story. Every version he keeps hidden.
The movie drones on, music swelling dramatically as the woman discovers a basement she absolutely should not enter.
Drew gestures toward the screen. “Why do they always go into the basement?”
I tilt my head. “Maybe what she wants is down there.”
“What she wants is survival.”
“Maybe she wants answers more.”
