Page 32 of Whirlwind
“No, you aren’t. You’re God damned perfect.”
“Okay, now you’re seriously worrying me. Sit down.” She points to the couch, and I do what she says, sitting right in the middle.
“I’m fine, Kit. You should have higher confidence in yourself. Once in a hundred years, a woman like you is born.”
“Do I get an ice pack or call 9-1-1? Do you know there’s eighty concussions in the league, on average, every season? And I have no idea how to care for one.”
“You watch a movie with me,” I say, tugging her down next to me. “You said you didn’t want to watchHereticalone. I don’t have a concussion, I promise, I’m fine.”
She watches me skeptically for a few more moments, then relents and grabs the remote. I pull the blanket from the back of the sofa and adjust it over our laps, keeping a close eye on her for any sign that she’s uncomfortable with my closeness.
At first, she’s reserved, a little tense. I don’t know if it’s because we’re sharing a blanket or if she doesn’t believe that I don’t have a brain injury. Eventually, she falls into the movie and relaxes into my side.
I hyperfocus on every point where our bodies touch. Her knee against my thigh, her shoulder pressing further into my arm every time the movie makes her nervous. At one point, she pauses the film to go on a diatribe about The Matilda Effect. How men have stolen advancements from women for centuries. She’s passionate and animated as she spews case after case, spurred by something the villain in the movie says.
As soon as she has it off her chest, she presses play, tosses the remote aside and curls up against me.
She’s a fucking whirlwind and I am endlessly entertained and equally impressed by her brain. The other night when we were on a video game together, she simultaneously planned out how our team should take out the hardest boss in the game while she rattled off information about all she’d learned over the past week. She bounced from a giant seamount that was found on the ocean floor near Guatemala to a runaway black holein space, before she finally landed on minerals, telling us all sorts of random facts about the oldest of them. Even with the most mundane subject, her enthusiasm always makes for an interesting conversation.
By the time the movie ends, I’ve managed to wrap my arm around her shoulders without her bolting off the couch. Nightmare has crawled onto her lap, hindering me from getting more comfortable,the little cock blocker. It’s probably for the best.
I turn my head toward her and catch her peering up at me.
“You’re really okay?”
“You’re really that worried,” I state in wonder.
“You’ve been acting different, is all,” she says. “Is everything okay with you and the team?”
“Yeah, it’s better than I’d hoped for.”
“Your family is good?”
“Yes, Kit. Everything and everyone is fine. I promise,” I reassure her. Except it doesn’t work, there are still worry lines around her narrowed eyes as they bounce around my face, looking for an explanation. I could give her that. I should give her that. Even though I’m afraid of how she’ll react, it’s the kind thing to do. And I don’t want to be anything but kind to her. “You’ve been on my mind.”
“What do you mean?” She tries to sit up straighter, but Nightmare protests the move with a disgruntled whimper.
“I mean,” I say slowly as I drop my forehead to hers, “that I think about you more or less non-fucking-stop, Kit.”
“You don’t have to worry about me when you’re away. I’m okay.”
“I know you are, and that’s not how I mean.”
“How do you mean?” she asks, pulling away an inch so she can focus on my face.
“Promise you won’t run away?”
“To where? I’m in my house,” she says, making me smile.
“I don’t just worry about you when I’m not around, Kit. I fantasize. I dream of kissing you,” I say, barely loud enough for her to hear.
“Oh,” she says, her mouth not closing fully after the tiny word escapes. I’d love it if that was an invitation. But I won’t make a move without her expressed invitation.
“I know you don’t date. So, I’m not sure what to do with my feelings.”
“But you’re in love with Isla,” she tells me, brows furrowed.
“I’m not.”
