Author's Notes: This took forever to do! It's a short story all on its own, but it's part of this series, so it's a chapter here. The whole thing takes place between Silence and Only Connect. I hope it works—I'm pretty happy with it, hope you are too. There'll be more from selected scenes in season 2, but this was self-contained, so here it is.
I know feet gross a lot of people out, so I thought I'd warn that I do mention bare feet in this. Some people find bare feet ugly, but Grace isn't one of them (I decided!) That scene might be weird, but it makes sense to me, and I think it's kinda sweet, so deal.
When I wrote this, I forgot that the Girardi house has a second flight of stairs in the kitchen. It messes with the whole canon thing, but hopefully I can get away with it. After all, how many houses have you seen that has two sets of stairs? I can't count how many TV homes use that gimmick. Makes me laugh, but whatever.
Boundary AdjustmentsI hate being skittish.
I didn't know I could be skittish until Joan came home from the hospital. I saw her as often as I could, but it was always with more dread than I wanted to admit. Visiting her couldn't be avoided. Joan was in a funk after her hospital stay, and I felt like needed to be there for her. That was a new experience. Don't get me wrong. We didn't paint our nails or discuss Matt Damon or giggle about boys, I wouldn't stand to do any of that. But she seemed so lost, and although we didn't talk about it, she seemed to feel better by the time I left. It's like I was normal for her.
Heh.
So, I endured going to her house. I hated going there, really. I was always on edge, jumping at every noise. The butterflies I felt every time I approached the house made me want to scream. The whole thing was ridiculous. I wound up sneaking onto her porch and looking in the windows to see who was around before I knocked on the door. Usually, he was not there or someone else was closer to the door. One time he was there alone, though, camped out on the couch in the living room, reading a magazine. I thought about going around back and trying that door, but I wouldn't be able to make it up the stairs without his seeing me. It was 20 minutes before I saw Joan come down and go to the kitchen. I crept off the porch and ran around to knock on the back door. Once inside, I hung out in the kitchen, keeping myself out of the line of sight of the other room, until Joan was ready to go upstairs. Then I ran so fast, I think she thought I was the crazy one.
It was impossible to avoid him forever. Joan's parents and Kevin were out one evening. Joan and I were in her bedroom, and I was sure he was in his room, working on another science experiment. Just to be safe, I made some excuse so Joan would come downstairs with me when I got ready to leave. As we began to walk out of her room, her cell phone rang and she ran back to it. It was Adam. I loitered by her door for a few minutes, but the conversation turned intense and I felt like I was intruding.
Carefully eyeing the stairs to the attic room, I headed down. I made it to the first floor before a figure, dressed in plaid cotton pajama bottoms and a white T-Shirt, appeared in the doorway of the dining room, carrying a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. Eyes wide and slacked jaw, I knew his face mirrored my own expression.
I turned on my heels, and was almost to the door when I heard him mutter, "Predictable."
I froze, and my impulse to escape gave way to his challenge. I turned around slowly and eyed him. "Did you say something to me?"
He gaped in mock surprise. "Oh, you're talking to me."
"I was never not talking to you." I said. Admitting to him that I was avoiding him was out of the question. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to avoid.
"Oh!" he laughed. "Sure, it makes sense that I wouldn't see my sister's best friend for a month. Given the quantity of time you've spent here, and the fact that the last time you said two words to me was the night we kissed, the probability of you not avoiding me is less than—"
"All right!" I interrupted. I glanced up the stairs, worried that Joan had heard me, and then continued, quieter. "Just don't go on about probabilities."
My eyes skimmed his shape; his T-Shirt fit him more snuggly than the shirts he wore to school. He wasn't muscular, but the shirt hugged the lines of his body, revealing its lean torso. He was a lot less scrawny than he looked, and I tried not to remember how firm he felt in my arms. We stood there looking at each other for a minute until he reached out the plate.
"Cookie?" He offered, a smile playing on his lips.
I needed to get out of there. There was no way I was going to stay and make pleasantries with him. I approached him, took two cookies and sat down on the steps. He stood there for a minute before stepping past me and taking a seat a few steps above me.
"You're sister is going to come down," I said.
"What was she doing when you left?"
"Talking to Rove."
He sniggered. "She'll be at least an hour."
"Those two are so stupid about each other. It's sickening." I broke off part of my cookie and put it in my mouth.
"Love makes you do the wacky," he said, concentrating on dunking a cookie in his milk.
"It's the wacky that believe in love. It's all utter nonsense, especially in high school."
He nodded, and then looked at me before taking a bite of his milk-drenched cookie. "Could be a lot of fun though."
"You would know all about love after Glynis." I said, sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, but said nothing. "It isn't fun. It's right above a root canal."
"Above it, huh?" He said, smirking. "You rate it better than I expected."
I was facing him, sitting sideways with my back against the railing. He sat three steps above me, and his feet rested on the step above the one I was sitting on. Even with two full steps to stretch out, his legs bent at a ninety-degree angle, and I found myself tracing their length with my eyes. I focused on his bare feet next to me, and longed to slide my hand up his calf under his pant leg and feel his skin. I looked up at him and met his gaze.
In one fluid movement, I stood up before he could move or say anything. "Thanks for the cookie," I said, putting the other one on the plate in his lap, and walked out the door.
---
Joan went away to camp shortly after that, which gave me no end of relief. Between her moods and her brother, my nerves were shot. It was a chance to stay away from that house for a while. It's what I needed, actually. Time away to get a grip. I remembered what life was like before they came into my life those weeks. I didn't have anyone calling me daily, or someone lurking in the background. Not letting other people make demands on me was what I was about.
I welcomed the change. At least, I wanted to.
My phone never rang, and I spent the days rattling around the house by myself. Adam and I hung out a little, but it felt so foreign for it to be just the two of us now that our circle included Joan.
Joan and....
I caught myself thinking about him far too often that summer, and had to force thoughts of him away. The kiss, the night on the stairs, it was all a fluke. He didn't mean anything to me. He couldn't mean anything to me. The whole idea was just too outrageous to consider.
I was in the coffee shop, one August afternoon, reading a book and drinking a mocha, when I glanced up and saw the back of a gangly teenager with short, blond hair outside the shop's window. My heart...leapt?...at the sight, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. For a brief second, a smile pulled, unbidden, at my lips, until the teen turned and I realized I didn't know him. I realized then, that yes, my heart had leapt a minute ago, and now, not only did it return to its normal position, but continued falling.
Furious at myself, I threw away my drink, and stormed out of the restaurant.
---
"We rented movies, you wanna come over?" Joan asked me over the phone three days later. She'd gotten home earlier that week, but I hadn't gone over to see her yet.
"Who's going to be there?"
I cringed. What a stupid thing to ask.
"Uh...you, me, Adam." Joan laughed at the obviousness. "You in or out?"
"I don't feel like watching you two snog all night."
"There will be no snogging," Joan sighed, deflated. "Come on, we're just going to hang out." I figured that Joan wanted me there as a buffer as much as anything else. Even before Joan went to camp, things between her and Adam were strained. Neither one of them brought it up to me, though, and I didn't to pry. Life was simpler before Joan became my friend.
"I'll be there in half an hour," I said, and hung up the phone.
Forty minutes later, I let myself in the front door of the Girardi house. Joan was standing by the TV, looking over the DVDs, and Adam was lounging on the couch. Joan looked up at me, and then shouted, "Luke, Grace is here. Hurry up with the popcorn!"
I knew it. Joan's answer to my question on the phone wasn't an indication that it would be only Joan and Adam and me. Her brother had watched movies with us as often as not when we got together at her house. Sometimes Joan griped at his bugging us, but she usually accepted him without much thought. Considering that Joan wasn't looking for private time with Adam, it figured that she'd be open to his joining us. I stepped into the living room and sat in one of the recliners next to the couch. Usually there was a fight over who got the third spot in the couch (which had the best view of the TV), and who took one of the recliners on the side. The couch was big enough to fit the four of us. We'd done it before, but tonight it wasn't an option.
I kept my eyes on the entertainment center in front of me, where Joan was putting in the first DVD, as he came in with four empty cereal bowls and one big bowl of popcorn. I felt his eyes on me, but he didn't say anything as he sat the snacks on the coffee table. He straightened and made a move to take his seat when I stopped him.
"Hey, geek."
He turned around and looked at me, one eyebrow raised.
I held out my hands. "Gimme some."
He eyed me before he turned to fill a bowl with popcorn.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"No, but I'll let you know if I think of something." I looked up at him, giving him a mocking smile.
"Glad to serve," he deadpanned.
"Gotta be good for something."
"Should I feed it to you too?" He retorted softly as he handed the bowl to me. My face warmed, and I shot my eyes over to Joan and Adam, who were too busy being uncomfortable with each other on the couch to hear his comment.
"Dreaming, buddy," I murmured, ducking so he couldn't see my face.
Joan started the movie. He looked at the couch, decided there was too much tension there for his taste, and went to sit in the second recliner on the other side of the couch.
The movie began and I kept my eyes trained on it the entire time. For the life of me, I couldn't tell you what the story was. Images of accepting popcorn and licking the butter and salt off his fingers kept disrupting my concentration.
---
When the movie ended, Adam and Joan were both asleep on the couch, more comfortable with each other in their sleep than they were when they were awake.
I pretended to not watch him as he stood and stretched his long form, collected the bowls half-filled with popcorn, and took them to the kitchen. I sat there in the dimmed silence, looking at the place where he had disappeared. It was a perfect chance to slip out the door. Sighing, I collected the soda cans and followed him.
He noticed my entrance and after a minute cleared his throat. "Uh, so did you like the movie?"
"Did I like the movie?" I shot him a look. "Dude, you suck at making small talk, and I can't stand it. So, don't." I said as I put a can into the pop can compactor that was attached to the side of the refrigerator.
"Sorry. Just trying to make conversation," he mumbled as he wiped the counter with a rag, his back turned towards me.
"Yes. The whole point of small talk. To make unnecessary and annoying conversation."
He turned around and leaned against the counter, folding his arms. His eyes reflected something between amusement and irritation. "You really do hate me, don't you?"
I shrugged, "I don't hate you any more or less than anyone else."
"Oh well, that's a vote of confidence." He rolled his eyes.
I put the last can in the compacter while he folded his rag, hung it on the sink then came over, and against on the counter in front of the fridge.
"Friedman," he said.
"What?"
"You said you don't hate me more or less than anybody. What about Friedman?"
"Friedman is pond scum," I said. "I hate everybody less than Friedman."
"Uh huh." He pushed himself off, and leaned against the refrigerator door. "So, who do you hate less than me?" he asked, amused. I looked at him and waited for a witty comeback to come to me. I hated that I faltered under his stare.
"I'm not going there again," I said flatly, the words giving me resolve.
"Going where?"
Nothing like laying your own trap.
"I gotta throw these in the recycle bin," I said. It was under the sink, and he was blocking my path. He gently took the crushed cans from me put them on the counter without moving away from me. Then he turned towards me, looking at the floor, I saw his eyes flutter up to mine for a brief second before we both looked down again.
"I um....I should go," I said.
He didn't move, but looked at me more steadily. Smiling slightly, he reached out and pushed back a strand of my hair, his fingers lightly brushing my cheek. I took at shuddering breath, and he looked into my eyes with concern.
"Are you—"
"Shut up," I said in a low voice, grabbing and kissing him. He wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me closer. I tightened my arms around his neck and pressed into him. Warmth crept through me as he pulled lightly on my lips. He brought his hands up and ran them along my face and into my hair.
I exploded inside and the world spun around me. I turned my face away, and he continued to kiss me on my jaw line.
I put my hands on his chest and pushed as hard as I could. He stumbled backwards, and I saw his shocked face as I ran out of the kitchen, stumbling slightly. I grabbed my jacket off my recliner and fled the house.
I was block and a half away from the house before I stopped running. I put my hands on my knees and gasped for breath. What was wrong with me? I couldn't even be in the same room with him without losing control. Frustration welled up inside, and tears came to me eyes.
"ARGH!" I roared, thankful no one was around. I had worked so hard to keep myself in control the last few years. Not control like my temper control, but keep myself contained, not let anything out that I didn't want out. So why couldn't I do that around him? I wanted it to stop. I didn't want this to be happening. I leaned against a tree and covered my face to keep the tears from falling. He's just a geek, he's just a geek, he's—I stopped myself when I realized my mantra was keeping his image in front of my closed eyes.
---
I slept horribly that night, and had a headache all day the next day. I was grateful that I had the house to myself, as I was in no mood to face anyone. I didn't get dressed, spent the day stretched out on my bed listening my CDs, and tried to forget what happened. I wasn't any closer to that goal by mid-afternoon when my phone rang.
I picked it up. "Yeah."
"Hey," Joan chirped, "Wanna come hang out?"
"Can't."
"Why? Hey, you OK? You sound...funny."
"I'm fine," I said, "I gotta go though."
"Grace wait—"I heard her say as I pulled the phone away from my ear and turned it off. She'll be ticked, but she'd get over it.
Joan's call brought into focus the thing I was trying to evade all day. Avoidance wasn't an option. Joan was one of my best—not to mention only—friends, and as much as I would've doubted the likelihood of that a year ago, I wasn't willing to discard that. Joan was a fact of life, and that meant her brother was too.
I'd gone close to a year of avoiding, denying, skirting this issue, but that wasn't going to work anymore. Admitting to myself that I was attracted to him felt like admitting defeat. How in the world was I going to deal with this?
I needed to be in control. Anything else was far too dangerous to consider. I pulled a notebook and pen off my nightstand, sat up against my headboard and began writing.
1) No "I love you's," or honeys or sweethearts, or anything of the like.
2) No cutesy looks, no significant glances around others.
3) No holding hands when other people are around.
4) No flowers or candy or presents.
5) Absolutely NO discussion of sex.
6) No anniversaries.
7) No talking on the phone for hours at a time.
8) No dinners or movies or long walks
9) No discussing it with other people. In fact, nobody can know!
I read over my list. Maybe this could work. I didn't have to be one of those silly girls that got all giggly and mushy over a guy. Maybe I could do this without becoming so nauseating and ridiculous. The butterflies started to settle then, and I took a deep breath. I just needed a plan, and now that I had one, I felt more like myself again.
---
I knocked on the Girardi's door the next afternoon, and he opened the door.
"Hey," he said, surprised to see me. My stomach lurched, but I smothered it. I had a plan now. All I needed to do was follow the plan. "Uh...Joan's not here. She's at the bookstore."
"Yeah, I know." He stood there looking at me blankly. "You wanna..." I gestured over my shoulder.
"Oh. Yeah, um let me just tell my---"
"Are you seven? We're just going for a walk."
He looked back in the house for a minute, then stepped outside and closed the door. He turned to hug me, but I turned around and walked off the porch. When I was halfway to the driveway, I turned back and saw him standing where I left him, staring dumbly at me.
"Are you coming?"
He joined me, and we continued walking.
"So..." he began. When I didn't answer he tried again. "Where are we going?"
I stopped and looked at him. "Somewhere private," I said. His lips slowly formed his lopsided smile, and I rolled my eyes. "Just come on."
We had walked in silence for a few minutes when I felt him put his arm around my waist. I jumped and turned towards him. "What are you doing?" I barked.
He jumped backwards, completely startled and confused, "I....I'm sorry. I thought...I figured..." He turned red and looked away.
I began walking again, and he took his place beside me after a few steps, keeping plenty of distance between us.
We came to an intersection between our neighborhoods and stopped in front of a coffee shop. "OK," I said, "That café across the street is closed for remodeling, so the outside dining area is always vacant. Meet me there in twenty minutes."
He looked at me confusedly "What?"
"Over there is a dining area with a wall—"
"Yeah, Grace, I see it. Where are you going?"
"Just meet me there in twenty minutes!" I turned and started to walk away when I suddenly turned around and saw him heading towards the café.
"Hey," I called. He turned and looked at me. I walked back to him. "Don't go there yet. Give it a few minutes." I did an about-face and resumed walking.
---
Twenty minutes later I returned to where I left him and saw him standing against the café wall. Did the guy understand nothing? He saw me and stood up. I waved him away, but lifted is arms as if to say, "what?" I waved at him to get down, but he continued to stare at me. I groaned and ducked into the coffee shop where I could see him without being noticed by others. He stared in my direction and then finally stepped into the eating area and disappeared behind the half-wall.
Another five minutes passed before I walked across the street and joined him on the ground.
"Any secret agents follow you?" he asked.
"Ha, ha, geek." I replied. "Do you not know the meaning of private?"
"By private, I thought you meant as in alone, not as in covert operational tactics."
I shrugged. "I just wanted to be careful."
"Careful."
"Yeah." He stared at me. "What? I want to keep this on the down-low for a while."
He nodded. "OK, we're here, now what?"
I bit my lip and smiled slightly. "We'll see, won't we?"
I looked in his eyes, and watched as they passed from bewilderment to amusement, dropped from my eyes, and settled on my mouth. I leaned into him, and we met halfway. I let myself concentrate on the softness of his lips. I loved how he was so gentle and strong at the same time. A blanket of warmth and contentment wrapped around me, and I relaxed my body into him. His arms came around me, and he pulled me closer. Taking my face into his hands, he deepened the kiss, and ran his hand through my hair.
"You are so amazing," he murmured between kisses.
Shutting my eyes to ward off his words, I broke our kiss. He leaned in to kiss me again, but I scooted away so that there was no contact between us.
"Grace?" He reached for my cheek, but I raised my hand.
"Don't!"
He looked at me. "I'm confused."
I pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them. "Just back off," I snipped.
He flinched at my tone. "OK, the confusion is growing exponentially. Isn't this what you wanted?"
I shook my head. "No. I mean, not like that."
He looked miserable, which made me feel even worse. "I'm completely lost here," he said.
"Look, I just...Don't make such as big deal about it."
He searched my face as if the answers lied there. "Big deal about what?"
"Listen," I tried again, "I don't need to be told I'm amazing, or beautiful, or wonderful, or anything like that. This isn't true love, so don't act like it is."
"OK." He crinkled his eyebrows together. "What is it?"
I pondered his question for a few seconds, but I couldn't come up with an answer. "You want to have the define the relationship talk already?"
"No. I'm just trying to understand—"
"It's not love. It's not sweet or giggly or cutesy or romantic. We're not going to hold hands, or hang all over each other. Don't smother me, don't hang around me all the time, and don't make puppy eyes at me. Ever."
"OK," he said. I looked at him, and saw that he was still thrown by my outburst, but accepted what I said.
After a few minutes, I scooted nearer, and leaned over my crossed legs to him. He returned my kiss eagerly. After a while, he placed his hands on me arms, and ran them lightly up onto my shoulders. Gasping, I jerked back and caught his hands on my own. We stared at each other briefly before I closed my eyes and accepted his kiss. I pushed his hands into his lap, leaving my own there briefly before returning them to my lap. He seemed to understand my message because he left his hands in his where they were as we continued to kiss softly.
Once again I found myself swept up with comfort in his warmth and touch, and emotion welled up in me. I never thought—I hadn't expected this to happen. Ever. The look of contentment and awe in his eyes—I had put that there. Me. Exhilaration washed over me, threatening to carry away every other thought and sense I had. I turn down my face away from him, and he kissed me softly on the cheek, threatening what little self-control I had over my emotions, before leaning back to look at me. My eyes burned and I cleared my throat, blinking furiously.
"Uh...I have to go." I pushed myself back and stood up, still avoiding his eyes.
"Wait," he pleaded, and started to get up.
I took a small step backwards and turned away. "See ya," I said, before leaving him to stare after me.
---
I couldn't lie to myself about it. It was great. The most exhilarating experience I had ever had, but I couldn't allow myself to get caught up in it. I liked kissing him, it was nice, but we had to agree on some terms. School was starting in a few days, and I needed to be sure he wouldn't blab this around to everyone. He couldn't tell anyone. Joan would flip, and I couldn't take her badgering me about this.
I sat down at my computer, and switched it on. It was an old Pentium that was my dad's before he got a new laptop. It was archaic—4 years old, but it did the job. Had a word processor, had a modem. Good enough for me. I opened Word and began typing.
On this day, September 6, 2004, the parties signing this contract, Luke Girardi and Grace Polk, will enter into an agreement as described in the following articles of behavior, which outlines the parties' privileges and obligations. By signing this document, the parties understand and agree to follow the articles with the strictest adherence.
Article 1
The undersigned parties agree that neither party will discuss the arrangement, as specified in this contract, with any third party. Breech of this article will cause this contract to be null and void, and will result in immediate and total dissolution of current relations between parties.
The parties agree to restrict any contact to designated areas, selected by the parties for discretion, seclusion, and access. Make out sessions will be no less than 5 minutes per day. After five minutes, either party can terminate the session without argument or discussion from the other party.
Article 2
The parties will not exchange gifts, such as candy, flowers, teddy bears, et cetera. The parties will not celebrate anniversaries of any kind regarding relations described herein.
The parties will not participate in activities, usually termed as dates, such as going out to restaurants, movie theatres, taking long walks, watching sunsets, et cetera. The parties agree that there is no obligation to call or visit one another, other than to carry out the obligations described in Article 1, paragraph 2.
Article 3:
At school, the parties will not approach one another, walk together in the hallways, eat lunch together, hang out, etc cetera. Any communication will be limited to academic purposes. The parties will avoid looking at each other except when absolutely necessary.
The parties will not attend social events (games, parties, et cetera) together. Neither will they have contact or communication at events at which they both attend.
It is inevitable that Grace will be at Luke's place of residence to visit his sister. When both parties are present, contact and communication will be limited to only that which is necessary to avoid activity that might raise suspicion. There will be no "accidental" touching, no stolen glances, et cetera. Every effort will be taken by both parties to ensure that a third party is present in the room if both parties are in a room at the same time. Both parties will restrain from remaining in the same room longer than necessary.
Article 4
The parties will not refer to one another as boyfriend or girlfriend, or any other gender related coupling word. Parties will not address each other at anytime by "Pet names," including but not limited to "Honey," "Sweetheart," et cetera.
The parties will never use the word "love" when discussing the arrangement. As a rule, discussion of the parties' feelings shall be avoided, unless one party proposes such a discussion, and the other party concurs.
There will be absolutely no discussion of sexual relations. Any mention of sex is subject to suspension of this agreement for a specified duration.
---
Joan opened her front door.
"Hey," I said.
"Uh, hi Grace." Joan looked at me as I walked into her house. "What are you doing here?"
I didn't have an answer for that. How could I not have an answer for that?
"I came to hang," I answered after a few awkward seconds.
"Oh. OK." I could tell she was thrown. I usually don't come over unannounced just to hang out. "I'm actually starting a movie," she said, walking over to the couch.
"A chick flick?" I asked, not moving from the foyer. If it was a chick flick, she'd expect me to bail, and then how would I get this done?
Joan smirked. "No. Lucky you. It's Rat Race."
"That's a stupid movie."
"Yeah, stupid to the point of funny. You in or out?" She asked as she sat on the couch.
I looked up the stairs, then went and sat next to her. To be completely honest, I hadn't even considered that I'd run into Joan. Or her mom, or anyone else. How could I've been so careless? What would've I said had her mother opened the door, "Hello, Mrs. Girardi, I need to have a private conversation with your son"? I sat there for a few minutes before I couldn't take the tension any longer.
"I'm gonna use your bathroom," I said, as I stood up from the couch and bounded up the stairs.
"Grace, there's one down here!" She called, but I was to the top of the stairs by then.
I made sure no one else was around before I went up the stairs to the attic room door and knocked.
"Come in," he called. I opened the door. He was at is computer his back towards me, but looked over his shoulder and jumped.
"Oh! Hey!" He nervously glanced around his room, and a goofy grin appeared. I felt my stomach flutter at his obvious pleasure to see me. "Uh...what....how..."
I pulled out the papers that were in my coat pocket, and handed him a copy. He began to read it, looked up at me, and then looked back at the paper. "I...I don't understand."
"It's a confidentiality contract," I said.
"Yes, I did get that," he said, dryly. "You—you're making me sign a confidentiality contract."
"Yeah," I said as if it was the most natural thing on earth. His eyes were incredulous, and I couldn't blame him. "What? I told you, I don't want anyone to know."
"And I said I got that. Why a contract?"
"To make it binding. If anyone finds out, the whole deal is off."
He looked away, shaking his head, and his jaw hardened. "Unbelievable," he muttered.
I knew it was unorthodox, but I hadn't expected this reaction from him. I was getting irritated. "Look, we can't do this if you don't sign it. The decision is yours."
He shook his head again, then sighed and picked up a pen and signed his copy. I handed him another copy of the contract to sign. After he was done, I took the pen from him and, leaning over his desk, signed and dated both copies.
I straightened and found his eyes on me, his face only a few inches away from mine. My lips twitched as I watched his eyes became heavy while he swallowed. That same pleasure I felt when I walked in returned, and I couldn't deny myself of his lips any longer.
After a couple minutes, I said, "Joan thinks I'm in the bathroom." My voice was huskier than I wished it was, and I stepped away from him.
He let out a sigh. "Wait, so, we're just going to sneak a few kisses every now and then?"
"Five minutes daily. It's in there." I gestured to the contract on his desk.
He stared at me with disbelief. "We're just going to find some corner for five minutes everyday?"
"Meet me at the café tomorrow, before school." I found myself wanting to give him another quick kiss goodbye, like sappy couples like Adam and Joan share. Instead, I turned and walked down the stairs, hearing his hand drop on his desk in frustration.
I stopped in the bathroom to collect myself. When I joined Joan at the couch, she looked over at me. "You could've used the bathroom down here, you know."
Of course she'd bring that up. I looked at her sideways. "It's a little stinky, Girardi," I whispered, earning a look of complete mortification from her.