I. 2026
Z never understood why Bridge liked watching her read. It baffled her and he'd never been able to offer an explanation that made any sort of sense. But then, that was Bridge. She found his staring, his observing, very distracting, sometimes to the point of not even being able to finish reading. He didn't seem to care, though, and that irritated her more than the watching. He would just sit and watch with a small smile on his face, as if he knew something she didn't.
Sometimes he'd be across the room, casually observing her while she read. She didn't even always notice when he watched her like that, and when she did, she didn't mind as much. He was out of the way. Unobtrusive. But then there were times like this one. Times he would sit so close she could hear him breathing, could feel the heat coming off his body. His eyes would bore into her head no matter which way she turned and then it would bother her. He was sitting there now, right behind her, so close that if she leaned back even a fraction of an inch, she'd be leaning against his chest.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Watching you read," he answered. She rolled her eyes. That was the most obnoxious, obvious answer she'd ever heard.
"Can you not?" She shifted and felt her shoulder brush up against his chest.
"No. I like to." She sighed and slammed her book shut.
"Why? I'm just reading. It's nothing special." She really wished he'd stop.
"You let your guard down when you're distracted. Your face shows everything you're feeling and thinking and doing. Or will do. Or want to do. Or whatever. I can guess what's going on with you. You read your book and I read you." That was the most irritating answer she could have gotten, and certainly not what she expected to hear. He made little sense and what she had picked up sounded almost like an insult. An unintentional insult, yes, but an insult nonetheless.
"So you think I'm predictable?" she asked, turning to face him. They were so close. She should back up or this could get ugly, but she couldn't quite bring herself to take her knee off his.
"Uh-huh!" he responded as he waggled his eyebrows. If he were eating toast, she'd shove it in that smug little mouth of his. But he wasn't eating toast, not today. And she wasn't predictable. She'd prove it.
"Know what I'm going to do now?" she asked. He flinched.
"Yell at me?" he asked. She didn't want him to be right. She had to change course of action and fast.
"I'll show you predictable," she muttered as she leaned in to do the first opposite to yelling she could think of. She kissed him. She hadn't intended it to linger more than a second or two, but his lips were soft and he tasted so smooth. She didn't want to stop, and he certainly didn't seem to be pulling back anytime soon either. She had to stop this. This wasn't what she'd meant to do. She pulled back and tried to catch her breath, tried to stop her heart from pounding.
He surprised her when he reached up and slid his hand along the back of her neck. The leather of his gloves was cool to the touch and sent a shiver up her spine. He nudged her, gently, towards him, and it was all the prompting she needed. She eagerly leaned back towards him as he met her halfway, kissing her slowly, savouring every second, and holding absolutely nothing back. This was what it was supposed to be like. This was heaven.