Page 119 of The Incredible Ordinary
It’s all so normal.
But then the side of his foot touches the side of mine. By accident, I think at first, but he keeps it pressed against mine.
His gaze falls on me, full of unspoken promises of things to come, and there’s a shiver of anticipation in my stomach.
He finds reasons to touch me. Light, casual brushes of fingertips on my skin that tease me until even looking at him makes me shiver with anticipation.
We talk and talk and talk, about anything and everything, until we’ve stayed well past our welcome.
We pay the bill and head outside. I have a slight buzz from the wine and Milán’s presence; a heady combination.
“What do you want to do now?” Milán asks when we’re on the street in front of the restaurant.
We’re standing so close. Close enough that I can see the flecks of silver in his deep blue eyes. I’m not sure what’s next, but I want to stretch my time with him out as much as possible. It’s a good thing he seems to be on the same page and not willing to end the night yet.
“We can…” I press my lips together while I frown. “You know, this is the first time I truly realized just how many people we both live with.”
“Too many.”
“Want to come over anyway?” I ask. “We can watch a movie?”
“I’d love to watch a movie.” He sounds just as eager as I feel. Anything to get a few more hours together.
We walk back to my place. It’s late, so it’s quiet. There’s still light on in the basement, but it’s not unusual for Dad to tinker in his workshop till the early hours of the morning, no matter how many lectures I’ve given him about the importance of sleep.
We sit on the couch, starting out very properly, with a good few feet of space between us. We pick a random action movie and settle in. Milán’s lips twitch, but his eyes remain on the screen.
I barely pay attention to the TV, too focused on the only thing that matters right now—Milán sitting so close to me. Close. But not close enough.
The air between us thrums with tension as the movie flickers across the screen, scene after scene, casting flashes of color over the dim living room.
I sink deeper into the couch and bite back a grin as Milán pretends to stretch and settles back with one arm over the backrest. His fingers drum absently near my shoulder.
On the screen, a man and a woman argue dramatically, but all I can hear is the soft, steady sound of Milán’s breathing.
I shift, and my calf brushes Milán’s leg.
“Sorry,” I say.
He smiles, eyes still on the screen. “Why would you be?”
“I don’t want to… distract you from the movie.”
He glances over, held-back laughter making his eyes shine. “It would be a real shame to miss it.”
“You’re missing it right now.”
His lips curve, the smile slow and crooked. “Maybe I found something more interesting to watch,” he murmurs.
The air thickens around us, and my pulse stutters. I lick my lips, and Milán’s eyes track each movement of my tongue.
The movie keeps playing, forgotten.
Neither of us moves. It’s like there’s an invisible string that’s holding us suspended in the moment, waiting for someone to be brave enough to pull it.
My heart is thudding loud enough that I’m sure Milán has to hear it.
His gaze dips to my lips in a lazy, lingering look. A confident, slow sweep of a look that makes mefeelthings. My breath feels heavy in my throat, and the air turns hot around us.
