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“Baseball season doesn’t start until March, but there’s an indoor batting cage over on Franklin if you’d like to go some time. Hit a few balls.”
I wasn’t athletically inclined, but Gareth’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Only if you promise not to laugh when I miss every ball thrown at me.”
“Cross my heart.”
“Then you got yourself a deal.”
“Awesome.” He paused almost uncomfortably. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
Suddenly nervous, I wiped my hand on my leg. “Sure.”
Sitting on the floor in front of his movie selection, he scanned the titles. “I hope you like action movies. Or I have some comedies.”
“Pick whatever you’d like. I’m not picky.”
He finally chose something and stuck it in the DVD player. An army camp popped up on the screen.
“This is one of my favorites. I hope you haven’t seen it already.”
I hadn’t, and while I would never say it out loud, anything with Mark Wahlberg in it was fine with me. He was gorgeous, so I was perfectly content watching him on screen. All I said was, “I’m sure it’s great.”
Gareth returned to the couch, this time sitting right next to me. In the middle of a scene I jumped and covered my eyes. It happened again and I turned to bury my face against his chest. He wrapped his arm around me, and it felt so good, I didn’t move away. Instead, I snuggled deeper against him, plastering myself along his side. We remained that way until the credits rolled. He reached over and grabbed the remote, shutting the movie off.
“Aside from the occasional parts, I hope you liked it.” Gareth picked nervously at his pant leg.
“I really liked it. That guy at the end got exactly what he deserved.”
“Oh, a little bloodthirsty aren’t we?” He laughed.
“Maybe a little. But seriously, he tried to frame my man, um, I mean Mark Wahlberg.”
His eyes widened and he smirked. “Your man, huh?”
“I just meant the man in the movie,” I said stupidly.
Gareth fake pouted. “You only used me to get your fix of Marky Mark. I see how it is.”
I poked him in the chest. “I didn’t use you. You’re the one who picked out the movie. It’s your fault.”
“What? My fault?” He tickled my side, and I squealed. “You’re saying it’s my fault?”
“Yes.” He tickled me again, and I giggled. I fell over onto my side and he followed me. “If it makes you feel better, you’re just as good looking as him.”
He stopped and stared down at me before raising a hand and brushing back the hair that had fallen on my forehead. His eyes scanned my face, and I blinked up at him. “Don’t you mean I’m better looking?”
His smile was so goofy and self-deprecating, especially with the eyebrow waggle. I reached up and cupped his cheek. “Fishing for compliments?”
“Absolutely.”
I laughed. “Well, then yes, you are a hundred times better looking than Mark Wahlberg.”
Gareth huffed out a breath. “Come on, let’s be realistic here. Maybe like fifty times.”
I giggled again at his ridiculousness. His smile faded, and his eyes locked on my lips. My laughter drifted off.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
My body went up in flames. “Yes.”
