Her mouth is full but her eyes smile bright enough for her whole face.
“Oh. My. God!” she exclaims, her eyes bulging out of her head. For a moment I worry she’s rubbed her tattoo against the back of the couch but then I see the enormous grin split across her face.
“You didn’t seriously cook this, right?” She asks in what sounds like amused shock, and to be honest now I’m a little confused. I open and close my mouth, unable to come up with words. Does she not like the pasta?DidI chop my finger off and somehow it landed on her plate while I was checking out her ass?
“This is quite literally the best pasta dish I’ve ever tasted in my life,” she says more calmly. The pride in my chest grows sizeably and I can’t help the cocky smirk that makes its way to my face.
“Thank you, Hoot,” I say, shrugging nonchalantly while internally kicking my feet and fist pumping the air like a lunatic.
Celeste likes my food.
“I like to cook,” I add nonchalantly, taking a bite of my own mound of pasta.
“Well you should consider opening a restaurant because this flavour should hit everyone’s palates. Wait, no! On second thought don’t, I’m greedy and want this all to myself. Unless you’re a one hit wonder and this is your only good dish,” she says playfully while demolishing another huge bite. I like seeing her like this, walls down and free spirited.
“Who knows, you’ll have to stick around to find out,” I say, rising to get us some water. The flavour critic in me demands I serve her a great wine pairing with this but that would seem too…intimate. She had one terrible date at an Italian restaurant already and I don’t want to scar her from Italian cuisine altogether.
We devour the food, both tired and hungry from the long day. Arguably hers was harder, therefore she decides on what movie to watch. I pretend to have an opinion about it, but in reality, I’d watch a blank screen if it meant sitting comfortably beside her for a while.
Celeste settles on a cinematic classic,Jaws.I feel absolutely giddy at her choice—one of my favourites—and the very reason for my own glitter shark tattoo. She couldn’t have known that but somehow picked it anyway. With plates set aside on the coffee table, Celeste snuggles up under a blanket. It has not escaped my attention that with each forkful of food and wiggle of happiness at the delicious carbs, she’s scooted herself a little bit closer to me, our thighs almost touching, and the blanket now falling partially in my lap.
“So this is you then? Killer pasta dishes and nineties cult classics?” It’s less of a question and more of an observation on her part, her eyes still fixed on the screen.
I smile at the top of her head, the aroma of vanilla and strawberries giving me a high like no other. “We all need a little bit of oblivion.” I mean to comment on my hobbies and interests she’s taken note of, but I can’t help but feel something in my chest. My oblivion shifting from an interest in things to an interest in Celeste. She’s captivated me in a way I never expected. A wobble of unease tells me it’s not something I can ignore. I have no idea if she feels the same or even has the capacity to reciprocate the unfiltered need that seems to be ever present these days. On paper, we don’t work. On paper she’swritten herself, I don’t meet the standards of The List. And I get it, she deserves all that and more. But off paper? In real life? When she isn’t laser-focused and sharp edges, when she lets her walls down, she’s softer. When that playful vulnerability comes out, that’s when I truly believe we compliment each other in a way her list doesn’t account for.
By the time the classic two-note theme begins with the shark’s first kill, I feel her head lolling against my shoulder and bouncing upright with a sharp inhale. Her body is tucked close under my arm that’s outstretched on the back of the couch. I turn to catch her batting her ocean blue eyes, trying to stay awake. I feel my insides melt, wanting desperately to drown in those eyes.
“Hoot, we can turn it off. If you’re that tired, I can drive you home.”
“No, no I’m awake. I love this movie, I’m just so sleepy.”
“It’s the adrenaline from getting a tattoo. Seriously if you want to sleep it’s no prob?—”
“I don’t want to leave. You’re very cozy, you know.” The corners of her mouth are curled upwards as she looks up at me from under my arm, her eyes blinking slowly in exhaustion. With her this close I can smell my peppermint soap mingling with her own scent of vanilla and strawberries. It takes everything in me not to bury my nose in her hair and inhale the intoxicating mixture of our two smells intertwined.
You sound like a stalker, Dom, fucking calm down.
“Not as cozy as this couch, I’m sure,” I mock, a taunting smile playing on my lips. I can’t turn away. Her tongue tarts out, wetting her lower lip. With her this close my heart pounds in my chest so thunderously I’m almost positive she can hear it.
“Thank you for coming today,” she says quietly.
“Hoot, it’s no—” I start but she cuts me off, closing the distance between us. In the briefest moment, her soft lips gentlypress to mine. My body tenses, my breath held tight in my chest. She pulls back and gives me a small lazy smile.
“Really. It means a lot that you were there for me. It’s normally me taking care of others so it was a nice change today.” She settles back under my arm and turns back towards the movie her eyes glazed over with exhaustion. I’m not entirely sure what she means by that, but my heart soars nonetheless, happy as hell that I could be there for her today. She’s careful not to press her tattoo against anything but snuggles right into me with a deep inhale.
Within minutes I hear her breathing even out, slowing. It’s like she stayed awake just to do that. Kiss me. My lips tingle, missing hers immediately. Butterflies swarm like the great migration in my stomach. Finally I take a deep calming breath and gently reach around to pull the blanket over her shoulders being mindful of her tattoo.
I stay motionless, not wanting to wake her, until the movie concludes. Only then do I gingerly remove myself from her arms as she unconsciously maneuvers herself to lay on her stomach. Luckily the cushions are very deep and offer her enough space to sleep comfortably. I’ve slept on this couch countless times, sometimes preferring it to my bed which always felt a little lumpy and cold in comparison. Grabbing her phone off the coffee table I hover it over Celeste’s face to unlock the screen. I feel a tad invasive in doing so, but knowing Delaney would call me a stalker,or worse,if Celeste went missing drives me to type out a quick text to Delaney letting her know where Celeste is.
I quietly pad toward my bedroom trying to avoid the squeaky floorboards but pause at the threshold. I turn back and just observe Celeste sleeping comfortably. On my couch. In my apartment. In my clothes.
Where she just kissed me.
I slowly close the door and flop face first down onto my black duvet hoping it swallows me. I am well and truly fucked.
I try to sleep but it eludes me. My mind replays that fraction of a kiss over and over until sometime around dawn I doze off with one final thought floating around in my head.
I definitely think I’m in love.
