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And he’d been hiding in plain sight.
As Julia Roberts faced Hugh Grant with tears in her eyes and a fake smile plastered on her pretty face, Ken’s quiet voice recited her next line from memory.
“I’m also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”
I giggled and pushed myself up into a sitting position. Ken pulled his eyes away from the screen just long enough to meet my amused stare. His lids were hooded, features relaxed, lips upturned on one side.
“That was the best part.” He nodded toward the glowing screen.
I smiled, maybe even bigger than Julia Roberts, and shook my head. Ken was funny. And charming. And he’d just let me touch him for…I don’t even know how long.
“What time is it?” I asked, looking around the living room for a clock.
Ken shifted next to me, digging his cell phone out of his pocket. Glancing at the illuminated numbers, he read, “Twelve fifty-eight.”
“Shit.” I jumped up, the room tilting sideways from the head rush as I scrambled over to the coat closet. “I have class in the morning. I gotta go.”
Ken nodded sleepily and walked me through his immaculate white kitchen, past an adorable breakfast nook nestled in front of a bay window, and out the garage door. I noticed, as he led the way past his Eclipse and Robin’s little Honda Civic, that he must have kicked off his shoes while I was sleeping. I don’t know why, but seeing Ken in socked feet made me happy.
Stopping next to my car, Ken turned to face me. His mask of apathy was back in place, the one that hid his thoughts from me. Our breaths were visible in the frigid black air as they collided and swirled between us.
“So…” I stalled, trying to see inside his mind. “Karaoke tomorrow, right?”
A small smile broke through his serious exterior. “Sorry.” He shrugged. “I have a date with a salad bar.”
“Oh, right.” I laughed. “See you then.”
Ken’s smile faded. “See you then.”
Kiss him, dumbass! Don’t just stare at him.
No! I want him to kiss me first this time!
Well, I want to be the new lead singer of No Doubt now that Gwen Stefani is going solo, but it’s not gonna fucking happen, so just do it already.
“Should I…meet you at the theater again?”
Oh, nice. Perfect. Drag it out. That’ll make it less awkward.
“Sure. I get off at six.” Ken rubbed his frozen hands together and shoved them in the pockets of his black slacks. His black tie had been loosened but was still hanging from his neck.
Great. Now, his hands are in his pockets. That’s the universal sign for, Don’t hug me.
He’s just cold!
Which is exactly why you should kiss him and let him go back in the house, you selfish bitch!
He didn’t dry-hump me or try to convince me to spend the night or anything. What if he’s just not that into me?
Fine. Don’t kiss him.
I can’t just not kiss him!
“Sounds good. See you then.” I reached for my car door handle in slow motion, searching Ken’s face for some trace of affection, analyzing his body language for any invitations I might have missed, but the moment we’d shared on the couch was long gone. Ken was cold again, inside and out.
With a professional nod, my tie-clad crush turned and headed back through the garage and into the house.
What the fuck? Seriously? No hug?
Just as I was about to slam my car door shut loud enough to wake the neighbors, Ken called out from the doorway into the kitchen, “Hey…Brooke?”
“Yeah?” I replied from the driver’s seat, hope lifting my voice to a decibel that should have made the neighborhood dogs howl.
“Call me to let me know you got home safe, okay?”
“Okay.” I sighed, pulling the door closed with a gentle click.
