Page 40 of No Interest in Love

Thisreallyisn’t helping. Her warmth makes my neck feel hot, and I think I’m breaking out in a sweat. A sweat I haven’t felt in a long time. The one that makes my heart pound like I’ve been running for miles. And I don’t break out in a sweat around women anymore. I just don’t. I thought nervous, pheromone-induced sweat was something that was long gone, and I was damn grateful for it.

My hands slip to the small of her back. She’s shaking. Her breath comes out in offbeat patterns against the fabric of my shirt, making her glasses pinch one of my nipples.

“Are you laughing?” I whisper, smile curling my lips. Shay shakes her head vigorously against my chest, and my other nipple gets pinched by the old-lady frames.

She’s full of shit. She’s having an all-out giggle fit right up against me, and I don’t know why she’s laughing, or if I’ve ever seen her this way before, but it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever witnessed.

And that word keeps creeping into my thoughts and pushing me into a panic.

I’m ready to nudge her off me because I suddenly need air, but I hear a voice checking in on passengers across the hall, and Shay’s still laughing, occasionally squeaking as she tries to contain herself.

“Stop,” she whispers.

“You’re the one laughing.”

“I’m not talking to you.”

I chuckle and push her face further into my chest to muffle the sounds she’s making. She’s gotta calm down or that attendant is gonna catch us within seconds. Wonder if we’ll just get escorted off or if this is some sort of felony. I’m too pretty for prison.

Then I get that feeling. The feeling that someone is right there at the door, just out of sight, and my heart starts pounding in my throat. Shay’s stopped laughing, but she hasn’t moved a muscle, still pressed up against me from toe to neck. I’m guessing the attendant is feeling that same “someone’s there” paranoia, because it feels like she’s there for a lifetime. My lungs tighten from not being used, and I may just pass out from lack of oxygen.

They can’t cart me away to prison if I need medical attention, can they?

After forever, the car door slides closed, and the conductor comes over the intercom, running through travel procedures. Shay and I both exhale in unison.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” she says. I push up against the wall as if it’ll move to give us some space, but when she looks up at me with a half grin, I relax.

“Well, there is a toilet right there.” I tilt my head to the side, not releasing her eyes. I don’t think I want to. My forehead’s sweaty and I feel like I just climbed out of a garbage can ever since she pointed out how long we’ve been without showers, but I can’t stop this urge to keep eye contact and try to…make a move.

I want to make a moveon Shay.

She fixes her glasses, and her eyes drop to my lips. I swear to the man upstairs, they drop to my lips and I lean down not all that much because we’re already so close.

Then the floor moves. The initial lurch of the train pushing itself down the tracks knocks us both from our feet planted in our hiding spot. I reach out and catch myself using the wall. But Shay…

She falls face-first into the private toilet.

“Oh shit,” I say, rushing to help her up. But she jabs her finger at the door windows, and I pull the privacy curtains shut.

When I turn back around, Shay sits upright, covering the bottom half of her face, revealing only her pinched-shut eyes and bright red forehead.

“Are you okay?” I ask, trying like all hell not to crack up. She drops her hand from her nose. Blood streaks over those lips that not two seconds ago I was thinking of making a move on.

“Damn…” I say, pushing back my amusement.

“Please don’t laugh,” she says, eyes watering but not quite letting any tears loose. Her glasses have flown from her face. I search the tiny car for those and for toilet paper. I locate the latter first and tear off a chunk.

“Tilt your head back.” I press the toilet paper against her nostrils and hold the back of her neck. Her hair’s a little wet. I’m guessing she didn’t want to shower via blue toilet water.

“I’ve heard that’s bad.”

“What?”

“Tilting your head. It’ll get blood in your stomach or something.” She pushes her head down. I nudge it back.

“Where the hell’d you hear that?”

“From every doctor ever.” She leans forward again. I press against her forehead to stop her.

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