Justifed ain't mine.
Boyd learned to be still. Very, very still. They were like sneak attacks. Moments where seemingly out of nowhere she would be close to him. Very, very close. Sometimes she wouldn't touch him, other times her arms would wrap themselves around his torso, or his shoulders and he would just stay still. Inhale. Exhale. After a few seconds, she'd let go, and things would go on as normal.
These moments became both the best and worst part of his days. For a few seconds, he could close his eyes and pretend this wasn't a fleeting moment. Then she would move away, and he'd be reminded that she wasn't his. Yet. He wondered how she would react… if one of those days that she decided to sit next to him on the porch, he pulled her in closer. If the days she decided to read over his shoulder, he held onto her arms. If he leaned back into her hug on the days she decided to reward him for doing the dishes.
He wondered what she would do if he initiated the contact. He hadn't touched her. He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't take the liberties. He couldn't help but think, thought that maybe it wouldn't be so wholly unwelcome. If he was so atrocious, if she hadn't forgiven him, she wouldn't be near him in the first place. Next time, he decided. Next time she came near him, he'd respond. He wasn't made of stone. And he knew her well enough to know that she was aware of what she was doing. If she wanted to play with fire, that was her choice.
It was one of their porch dates. The day had been a hot one. It had been busy as well. By the time Ava had woken up, Boyd was already gone. The salon was packed full of customers, girls getting ready for Prom, and Boyd had one of those days at the mine. By the time he had gotten home, Ava had already eaten, and by the sounds of it was taking a bath. When she came down, Boyd had eaten his food and was apparently in the shower. All in all, it was one of the rare days where they hadn't spoken an entire word to each other all day.
She was out on the porch. He figured she would be. She was on the steps. Her cigarette was dangling from her fingers. Her hair was wet, and her arms were covered in goose bumps. Not surprising, considering the cool wind, the wet hair, and the tank top. He watched her. Her shirt clung to her. It was scrunched up on the bottom. The small of her back was showing.
He stepped out on the porch. The door creaked open but she didn't turn around. He took his seat at the porch. They didn't talk. After a few minutes of silence, she put out her cigarette. She stood up and stretched and moved to what seemed to be her new favorite spot. Right next to Boyd. Same as always. No touching. Just enticingly close. She wanted to play with fire.
He put his arm around her. She froze. He froze. Fire. They were playing with fire. She closed her eyes, and leaned into him. She tucked her head into chest. His hands slipped to her waist. They sat still. Only his hands drawing circles on her bare skin. They sat very still… letting their senses indulge. She let herself be engulfed by him. His arms around her. His smell overwhelming her. He wondered what sort of torture this was. Wondered why she was allowing it. Wondered how he was going to stop.
They sat for what seemed like seconds. For what seemed like hours. One hand was intertwined with hers. The other still on her waist. She began talking to him. Mumbling through his chest. Things about her day. Boyd smiled. If this was going to be the new normal, he didn't mind.
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