pounding.
I don’t know what to do. His hand’s almost touching my breast, but it’s really confusing because it’s his hand, some friend of Chad’s, but it gets all mixed up with Larry, what happened with him. And I can’t breathe. It’s like Larry’s got his hands wrapped around my throat again.
“Don’t...” I say, my voice coming out barely a whisper. “Don’t...please don’t...”
Mike’s hand stops. Everything stops.
“Are you crying?” he says.
I’m still watching the tv, but I can feel his eyes on me.
“Haley.” He turns my chin toward him, gently. Looks into my face. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. Was I moving too fast?” And his kindness makes me cry even more.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a roll of toilet paper.
“Here,” he says. I blow my nose. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever blow my nose in front of a guy. But he doesn’t reel back in horror and disgust. “Give it to me,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll put it in the garbage.”
“Ew...no,” I say, really embarrassed. “I don’t want you to have to touch it.” There’s cheering on the tv. A big horn’s blowing, so someone’s scored, but he doesn’t even glance at the television.He’s too busy taking care of me. He unrolls a few loops of toilet paper, lays them on his palm, holds it back out.
“There,” he says, like the problem’s solved. “Now I won’t touch it.”
I feel self-conscious, but I put my used toilet paper in his hand and he goes back into the kitchen to dump it. I can’t believe he’s so sweet. I can’t believe I thought he was a big snore-fest.
He comes back into the living area and sits down. “Are you okay now?” he says, giving my hand a gentle pat. I never noticed that he had such nice brown eyes. His eyelashes are thick and long. There is something about the way he’s looking at me that reminds me of a puppy.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” We smile. We both turn back to the tv, but I keep my hand under his. And then, after a few minutes, I turn it over so we’re holding hands. My hand in his. His hand in mine. We watch the rest of the game like that.
Once, in a commercial break, he brings our hands up, fingers still entwined, and brushes his knuckles softly against my cheek. It’s really special. I don’t want the night to ever end. But eventually the hockey game’s over. The Canucks win in a shootout, four to three. Chad and Lynn emerge from the bedroom. I can’t tell if Lynn’s done it or not, but she looks quite tousled and her cheeks are flushed.
Mike and Chad walk us out to Lynn’s car. Mike and I are still holding hands. It’s a really nice feeling. Lynn and Chad start indulging in a major, full-body lip lock, up against the driver’s door.
“Good night,” Mike says.
“Night,” I say, suddenly shy.
“Can I see you again?” he asks.
“I’d like that,” I say.
Mike hesitates, then he leans in and gives me a hug. I hug him back. It feels good. I’d kiss him right now if he tried. But he doesn’t. Just opens my door and I get inside. Lynn gets inside, starts up her car,slips in a cd and rolls her window down so they can hear the music too.
“See you tomorrow,” Lynn calls out the window to Chad. We wave, they wave, as Lynn pulls away from the curb. I want to turn around and watch them walk back into the building, but I don’t.
Chapter Seventeen
When we pull up to my house, all the lights are blazing. Which is odd. It’s after eleven. Mom’s usually in bed by now. The good news is I won’t have to deal with Larry. His car’s not in the drive, so he must have gone home.
“Wonder what’s going on,” Lynn says as she puts the car in park and sets the emergency brake.
“I don’t know,” I say, but my stomach’s not feeling particularly settled. “Maybe you better not come in.”
“But I was going to
I don’t know what to do. His hand’s almost touching my breast, but it’s really confusing because it’s his hand, some friend of Chad’s, but it gets all mixed up with Larry, what happened with him. And I can’t breathe. It’s like Larry’s got his hands wrapped around my throat again.
“Don’t...” I say, my voice coming out barely a whisper. “Don’t...please don’t...”
Mike’s hand stops. Everything stops.
“Are you crying?” he says.
I’m still watching the tv, but I can feel his eyes on me.
“Haley.” He turns my chin toward him, gently. Looks into my face. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. Was I moving too fast?” And his kindness makes me cry even more.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a roll of toilet paper.
“Here,” he says. I blow my nose. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever blow my nose in front of a guy. But he doesn’t reel back in horror and disgust. “Give it to me,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll put it in the garbage.”
“Ew...no,” I say, really embarrassed. “I don’t want you to have to touch it.” There’s cheering on the tv. A big horn’s blowing, so someone’s scored, but he doesn’t even glance at the television.He’s too busy taking care of me. He unrolls a few loops of toilet paper, lays them on his palm, holds it back out.
“There,” he says, like the problem’s solved. “Now I won’t touch it.”
I feel self-conscious, but I put my used toilet paper in his hand and he goes back into the kitchen to dump it. I can’t believe he’s so sweet. I can’t believe I thought he was a big snore-fest.
He comes back into the living area and sits down. “Are you okay now?” he says, giving my hand a gentle pat. I never noticed that he had such nice brown eyes. His eyelashes are thick and long. There is something about the way he’s looking at me that reminds me of a puppy.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” We smile. We both turn back to the tv, but I keep my hand under his. And then, after a few minutes, I turn it over so we’re holding hands. My hand in his. His hand in mine. We watch the rest of the game like that.
Once, in a commercial break, he brings our hands up, fingers still entwined, and brushes his knuckles softly against my cheek. It’s really special. I don’t want the night to ever end. But eventually the hockey game’s over. The Canucks win in a shootout, four to three. Chad and Lynn emerge from the bedroom. I can’t tell if Lynn’s done it or not, but she looks quite tousled and her cheeks are flushed.
Mike and Chad walk us out to Lynn’s car. Mike and I are still holding hands. It’s a really nice feeling. Lynn and Chad start indulging in a major, full-body lip lock, up against the driver’s door.
“Good night,” Mike says.
“Night,” I say, suddenly shy.
“Can I see you again?” he asks.
“I’d like that,” I say.
Mike hesitates, then he leans in and gives me a hug. I hug him back. It feels good. I’d kiss him right now if he tried. But he doesn’t. Just opens my door and I get inside. Lynn gets inside, starts up her car,slips in a cd and rolls her window down so they can hear the music too.
“See you tomorrow,” Lynn calls out the window to Chad. We wave, they wave, as Lynn pulls away from the curb. I want to turn around and watch them walk back into the building, but I don’t.
Chapter Seventeen
When we pull up to my house, all the lights are blazing. Which is odd. It’s after eleven. Mom’s usually in bed by now. The good news is I won’t have to deal with Larry. His car’s not in the drive, so he must have gone home.
“Wonder what’s going on,” Lynn says as she puts the car in park and sets the emergency brake.
“I don’t know,” I say, but my stomach’s not feeling particularly settled. “Maybe you better not come in.”
“But I was going to
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