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I keep one hand on her lower back as we descend the steps together, with her laughing as I remind her to go slowly.
I love her laugh. I love that she thought I was talking about my cock. I love that she said we weren’t having sex on our date, as if I would ever presume that.
I simply love everything about her. Mariam’s always adorable, even rumpled in a heap on the stairs.
ChapterTen
Mariam
Jesse lets me have the armrest between us.
That fact makes me smile as I munch on popcorn and chocolate-covered peanuts with my Diet Dr. Pepper in the dark at the multiplex.
Jesse shares my love of movie theater butter, thank god. This small kindness keeps me from labeling him a weirdo for choosing chocolate malt balls for his candy and orange Fanta to drink. Ha. Weirdo.
The movie is…meh. Not as good as I’d hoped it’d be.
Which is why I don’t mind it when Jesse reaches over, touches the backs of our hands together, leans in, and asks, “Would it be okay if I hold your hand?”
No one has ever asked before. I always thought it would be corny to be asked. But really, I love it. Instead of inching his fingers over little by little or grabbing me, he asks. How simple is that?
Something about it squeezes my heart.
I turn my face to answer and realize how breathtakingly close Jesse is to me. Our noses nearly bump. I lean back an inch to take in his whole face. In the screen’s reflection, I expect that cute smirk, but he’s a picture of sincerity.
I nod and whisper, “Yes.”
And now, he’s moving the armrest up and out of the way. We’re holding hands, resting them atop his thigh.
It’s then I realize the sides of our bodies are touching, from our shoulders down to our ankles.
The only thing not touching is our heads, and mine is buzzing.
We sit like that for so long. Five minutes, ten minutes. God, why is this movie so dull? Is it me?
It’s the gremlin brain, I decide. The second Jesse touches me, I lose all sense. All I can think about is kissing him.
And wouldn’t that be such a high school move? Kissing in a movie theater…but…it is pretty empty right now. It’s a matinee for the movie’s second weekend in theaters. I look around and see one other small group of friends sitting in the front row, about ten rows ahead of us.
What am I thinking? Am I really considering attacking this man’s face on a first date? He’s an old-fashioned gentleman. Sure he dresses nice and doesn’t smell like cows, and he’s unbelievably charming, but what if he’s the kind of guy who takes it slow? What if he thinks differently of me if I make the first move?
But didn’t he make the first move by holding my hand? And why can’t I simply enjoy holding his hand? His big, rough, cowboy hand that would feel all kinds of good on my naked body. Oh my god, now I’m thinking of him squeezing my—
“Mariam, are you okay?”
The whisper is so close to my ear that my hair moves. “You’re bouncing your leg like crazy.”
“I am?” Oh. Yeah, I am.
I turn toward him and start to explain. “I tend to do that when I’m n—”
Except when I turn my head, his lips are right there. So damn close to mine, It takes no effort to switch off the nervous part of my brain and kiss him.
I angle my face a hair to the right, and my lips are on Jesse’s. I feel the intake of breath from both of us. Me because I can’t believe I went for it. He probably thinks I’m a lonely, desperate, horny exhibitionist, and he finds me shocking and inappropriate.
And yet, he doesn’t pull back.
He takes the kiss, this trapping of lips together, and deepens it. His free hand comes up to stroke my jawline, and somehow I feel that in my nipples.
