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His hand moves upward, slowly, and I realize why he draped the blanket over me. Sydney giggles next to me, right as he reaches the waistband of my pajamas.
I inhale sharply, glancing back and forth between him and the screen. He looks totally focused on the movie, but one finger plays with the drawstring. Every nerve ending in my body seems to focus on that one spot.
Breathing becomes difficult. I have to remind myself to take each breath and then let it loose in a gush, a simple reflex becoming a chore. I feel like I’m a kid playing Hide and Seek, trying to stay quiet and not be found. The quieter and more inconspicuous I’m trying to be, the louder each exhale seems to sound.
Graham and Sydney are still whispering to each other, but Holden is totally silent. His fingers dip lower, tracing the inseam of my pants. They brush my clit, sending a bolt of electricity through my whole system.
I bite my bottom lip—hard—worried I’ll accidentally make a sound otherwise.
I’ve spent all day anticipating tonight. There’s already a frenzy built inside of me. Each teasing stroke of his fingers sends me closer to the edge. My heart races and keeping my breathing even is a struggle. I slip one of my hands under the blanket and grab his, stilling his movements.
Holden finally looks away from the screen, at me.I’m close, I mouth. Heat flares in his eyes, turning them almost navy.
I’m expecting for him to pull his hand away, but he doesn’t. We keep holding hands under the blanket. His thumb starts drawing circles on the back of my hand. That’s all I focus on.
Not the movie playing.
Not Sydney giggling.
Just those circles.
When my eyes open, I’m on the air mattress. I sit up straight and glance around, startled. The last thing I remember is sitting on the couch.
Sydney is in her bed, sprawled out like usual. I scramble for my phone, finding it set next to the air mattress. It’s just after one in the morning. Last I recall in the living room, it was ten something. I fell asleep, something I struggle to do under the best of circumstances. Passing out early and not in a bed is unheard of for me.
I glance at Sydney again before crawling out of bed.
I’m annoyed with myself. Disappointed. I spent all day anticipating tonight.
Once I’m in the hallway, I hesitate outside his door. Maybe he decided to go out after all. Maybe he’s asleep. I have no sense of when the movie ended or when Graham left.
My hand closes around the knob and turns. Holden’s room is dark; the only illumination is the moonlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains. I scan the room and my focus lands on the bed. There’s a large lump in the middle.
I close the door and tiptoe closer.
“Holden?” I whisper.
He sits up. “Cassia?”
“Sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“No.” A pause, where I hover and he stares. “Come here.”
I walk across the cold hardwood until I reach the edge of his bed. He holds up the edge of the covers and I slip inside, sighing when the heat envelops me. His sheets smell like laundrydetergent and cinnamon. I inhale deeply and snuggle against the soft cotton.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I don’t blame you. The movie was terrible.”
“Pretty sure you were the only one watching.”
His chuckle is low. I feel it as much as I hear it. “Yeah.”
“I’m glad you stayed home tonight.” I second-guess the words as soon as they’re out. I don’t want him to think it’s what I expect. Or that it matters to me he chose to. It’s just another Friday night, but it feels entirely different.
Holden doesn’t answer. He pulls me on top of him and kisses me. I sink into it, into him. This feels different from the hotel. More purposeful, more permanent.
We kiss and kiss. I get lost in the sensation, swimming through the depths of what it feels like to kiss Holden. I try to memorize it, to imprint every touch.
