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Pushkin follows him for several feet then turns and cocks his head at me.
Five minutes later, Jace comes back, the hair around his face damp, his eyes unusually sparkly. He gives me a strained smile as he picks up our plates.
“This was super nice, thanks, Lu,” he says as if nothing happened. “Wanna watch a movie?”
Pushkin puts his head on my lap, and I pat him, then lean over to plant a little kiss on his nose. “Wanna watch a movie, buddy?”
“Hey, Lu?”
I raise my eyes to Jace, whose playfulness is back. “I wasn’t asking him.”
Touché.
His lips start spreading in a smile, and my heart suddenly feels too big for my chest.
Jace cleans the dishes.
I put the leftovers in the fridge.
By the time we’re done, the sun has set, and I don’t turn on the light, the glow from the TV illuminating the living room. The curtains and the door to the terrace are wide open, showing off the skyline sparkling with skyscrapers’ lights.
“Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” I announce, putting on my favorite movie. “With Til Schweiger and Jan Liefers. About two guys who run away from a hospital for the terminally ill and chase their dream.”
“What’s their dream?” Jace asks, settling on the couch, his back against the pillow on the side arm, legs on the couch, one leg bent at the knee propped against the back.
I quickly take in his pose as I perch on the opposite side of the couch.
“The dream is to see the ocean,” I explain. “Because both guys are about to die. And ‘Because,’” I imitate Til Schweiger’s voice though I’m bad at it, “‘that’s all they talk about in heaven—the ocean.’”
I laugh as I toss the remote control onto the table.
“I like the ocean,” Jace murmurs.
Pushkin puts his front paws on the couch against Jace’s leg, ready to jump in.
“Look at you, brat,” I taunt Pushkin. “Getting all the attention and all the best spots.”
“That’s because no one else is taking it.”
What?
I turn to Jace.
Gently, he pushes Pushkin away. “Off you go,duratshina.” Then he lifts his eyes to meet mine and pats the couch between his legs, summoning me toward him.
My heartbeat spikes.
I shift on the couch and settle between his legs and lean with my back against his chest.
I can’t relax. We’ve never done this before. Never cuddled. Never mentioned the kiss at the party.
Jace shifts, making more room for me, and I lean back, bending my bare leg and leaning it against his.
I wish he wore shorts too so I could feel his skin. I don’t know what to do with my hands until his arms wrap around my waist, and I finally rest my hands on his.
I hope he doesn’t feel my heart beating madly and pray no one calls or knocks on the door and breaks us apart.
The movie starts, but I have a hard time paying attention to it. I’m too aware of Jace’s arms around me, and I’m afraid to move. It’s easy to flirt when feelings aren’t involved. When they are, you question everything. Every little move is significant. And me stroking Jace’s hand with my thumb feels more outrageous than what my fictional characters do in bed.
