Page 75 of The Has-Been

“Popcorn?” he blurts, shoving the bowl toward me just in time to keep me from falling face-first onto the floor.

I stare at his offering.

That’s not what I’m hungry for. Not even close.

Liam won’t meet my eyes as I push the bowl away. His hand slides to the back of his neck, fingers scruffing through his hair, utterly oblivious to the connection we almost just made.

He crawls into the bed, patting the spot next to him. Waving me over like I’m a dog being called, cracking a smile, and chuckling as if he knows exactly what he’s doing. Suddenly, I’m no longer irritated at him for not throwing me against the wall and kissing me to make up for all the time we’ve been apart.

I slide into bed, pull back the covers, and see that he changed into the sweats I kept.

Our backs are resting against my headboard, a thick tension buzzing between us.

He places the bowl of popcorn between us, like he doesn’t trust himself—or me—and needs a physical barrier.

He presses play on the movie he has pulled up on my TV.

Within the first few seconds, I recognize that it’s Titanic. I glance over and crack a smile.

“Great choice.”

“Just figured you might need a refresher.” He says between bites. “Since you couldn’t remember Jack’s last name.”

My mouth drops open as I think back to trivia night and how he had stormed out.

“Is that why you ran away like a baby? Cause you thought I forgot about our movie?” I say the word our, like we still exist as one entity, like there is still such a thing as an us.

I twist to face him as the movie continues. He shrugs, throwing a piece of popcorn at my face. It hits me square in the nose, but I pick it up and eat it. I swear he relaxes, and I realize he likely did that just because he wanted me to eat something.

“I knew his last name,” I confess as Liam watches Rose board the ship.

But he waves me off with a soft, “Uh-huh.”

“Maybe I didn’t answer right away because I was thinking about something else.”

“And what was that, Aubs?” he winks playfully.

There it is again, that nickname I wish he would stop using. But I know this time it wasn’t a slip-up; it wasn’t accidental, it was intentional, testing.

I grin. How is it that even after all this time, he still knows me so well?

I grab the popcorn bowl and set it on my nightstand. With nothing separating us, I can now easily inch myself closer. I hear his breathing hitch, his hands like heavy stone limbs as they rest on each side of him, grabbing my sheets in apparent restraint.

My pinky brushes his, just like it did earlier tonight, a touch that I know sent us both a wave of want.

He reaches for the remote and turns the TV up, clearly trying to distract himself. But I crack a smile, watching him struggle to keep a tight-lipped look of indifference.

I wonder if he’s burning with desire like I am? The idea of him being as eager as I am sends a wave of excitement through me.

The piece of me that once held a part of him begs to be accounted for, begs to have a piece back.

Whatever he’s willing to offer me, I’ll take—just for one night.

Just one last time.

So in a flash of need and bravery, I climb atop him, my legs straddling either side of his body.

His eyes slam closed.