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I look over at him.He always seems excited, but particularly right now; his blue eyes are lit up, his grin wide enough I can see the slight gap in his teeth on one side.“If you were a secret agent, I bet you could do that too.”
Bryson shakes his head.“No way, Carleigh.I don’t like heights.”
I laugh.“I don’t think you’d be afraid of heights if you were Ethan Hunt.”
“Hey.”He points a finger at me accusingly.“I’m not afraid of heights, bud.I just don’t like them.”
I grin and quirk my head.“Is there a difference?”
“You bet your ass there is.Now come on, quiet on set.”Bryson nudges my knee with his knuckles.“He’s getting a secret message.”
I smile at the irony of him telling someone to be quiet - he’s probably the loudest person I’ve ever met - but I obey.I lean back on the couch, a container of spicy noodles in my blanket-covered lap, and continue to eat quietly.
I haven’t eaten a lot today, but I’m still not feeling great.So, I set the half-empty container down on the table, curl my feet beneath me, and tug the blanket to my chin.
A little while later, Bryson finishes his own noodles and peers into my takeout box.“That all you’re eating?”
“Yeah, I’m full.I’d tell you to eat my leftovers if you want, but you’ll probably get sick.”
“You’ve been breathing on me all evening.If I’m going to get sick it’s going to happen anyway.But nah, I’ll put them in the fridge.You need the noodle energy to get better!”Bryson stands up and begins to clear the takeout containers.
I look up at him with a smile.“The noodle energy?”
Bryson raises his eyebrows very seriously.“Yeah, Carleigh.The noodle energy.”
“Okay, Bryson.”I turn my gaze back to the TV, but the corners of my lips don’t drop.“I don’t know where you get some of that from.”
“Some of what?”he calls from the kitchen.There’s a slight clanging noise that I recognize as cutlery hitting the steel of the sink, probably having fallen from the drying rack.“Oh, sorry bud,” I hear him apologize.“Back in here you go.”
“Your … Bryson-isms,” I reply, tugging my blanket out of his way as he walks back into the living room.“Noodle energy.The garlic thing.You know, Bryson-isms.”
He drops his large frame back onto the couch.A little closer to me this time, I can’t help but notice.“This head’s a wild place to be,” he says, tapping his ear.“But the garlic thing is just common sense!Everybody knows that!”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” I laugh, “but okay.”
“You doubt me now, but when you wake up tomorrow feeling right as rain, you’ll be a believer,” he informs me.“Now you going to share this blanket or what?”
It’s warmer under the soft polyester with him.Part of that is probably because I scooted a bit closer, but in general, he seems to be radiating heat.As someone who is usually too cold, I’m jealous.
“You’re cold?”Bryson says, sounding alarmed.“Well come here, then.”He lifts an arm up, gesturing with his hand for mine to move beneath it.“Heater at your service, if you want.”
This feels like it’s crossing some kind of line, but absolutely everything I know about Bryson tells me this is nothing more than another genuinely kind gesture.I tuck myself in closer, let his arm drape over my shoulders, and honestly, it feels pretty nice.He’s warm and comfy despite the thick muscle I know is there beneath his soft t-shirt, and large enough that I feel pretty enveloped by the whole experience.
“You really are a heater,” I say, resting my hands awkwardly on my lap.
“Yes!”he replies cheerfully, rubbing his palm on my goosebump-ridden bicep.“Jesus, your skin’s freezing, Maybe you should go see a doctor.”
“It’s just a cold, Bryson, I’m not dying.”I lift the blanket a bit higher.He takes the hint and tugs the edge of it over my shoulder, then slides his arm down behind my back.I shift slightly to get comfortable, my right shoulder now leaning against his chest instead of beneath his arm.I’m also facing fully and mercifully away from him now, and hopefully he can’t see how red my face is right now.
Pathetic.I can’t believe it’s really been that long since I’ve done so much as cuddle with a man, even platonically like this, that the simple touch of Bryson’s hand near my hip makes me blush.It has been about a year since I broke up with my last boyfriend, and at least six months since I’ve been on a real date.
“This is why you need the noodle energy,” Bryson says matter-of-factly.
“I’m still not following.”
He squeezes my waist, then lets his big hand rest there, wrapped around my side.It's fine, completely fine.“There’s nothing to you.More noodles, more energy, then boom!More heat.”
His statement is pretty untrue.There’s plenty to me.I’ve never been a naturally slender person, the type that could eat anything and not gain weight.On the contrary, I’m pretty acutely aware of the impact of every thousand calories.Not overweight by any means, but that’s probably just because of the whole marathon training thing and my own valiant attempts to eat more healthily.
I swallow, close my eyes briefly, and make an executive decision to just get out of my own head.I’m going to enjoy this dumb action movie and the big, comfortable goof who is nice enough to sit with me during it.“I’ll take that under advisement, Dr.Kennedy,” I say dryly.
The scene turns suddenly dark, and in the reflection of the TV, I can see him grin.
