Page 60 of Nolan
Is 6:30 okay?
I’ll see you then.
That’s a whole week of combatting a whole lot of butterflies, but I can do it. I distract myself with tickling, chasing, and cleaning up after my brother’s kids for the remainder of the afternoon. Laolao spends most of her time in the kitchen, given the space and the focus she needs to make fresh batches of xiao long bao, and before long, the delicious scent of her homemade soup dumplings permeate the house.
Life is good. And for once, I feel like it can only get better.
When Friday finally rolls around, I fuss about what to wear for the better portion of an hour before I decide less is more and pick out an ensemble of jeans, shirt, and a cardigan. It’ll keep me comfortable and conservative enough to where it doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard.
Underneath? Black lace bra and thong—a spicy matching set. Just in case the night moves somewhere else again.
When I arrive at the theater, a retro sign flashes the theater’s name, The Princess, with lightbulbs and everything. As if I needed another reason to fall in love with this quaint little town. Nolan waits out on the pavement near the old-fashioned ticket booth, which is manned by an android assistant dressed in an antique costume, boxy hat and all. They’re talking, all friendly smiles.
Warmth spreads through me, a strong affection I’ve never before experienced, just from watching him interact with another android that isn’t trying to throw him through walls. Do they have their own language, their own culture, their own understanding of the world none of us can comprehend? Does Nolan have bionic friends? I want to know everything there is to know about him, and even after weeks of chatting, I know there’s plenty more for me to discover.
Nolan sees me as I walk toward him, and his disguised brown eyes light up with the briefest flash of backlight, shuttering pupils narrowing on me briefly. Focusing on me. Then they return to normal. Suddenly it hits me—maybe that’s the tell, to know when he’s scanning me, reading me like a book. So unfair. I’ll have to ask him about it later. For now, I throw my arms around him and let this feeling finally overtake me as he steals a brief kiss.
“I missed you.” I drape my arms over his broad shoulders as his hands move gently to my waist.
“Missed you too,” he says with a smile.
That’s when I know something’s up.
I can’t claim to be a Nolan expert—hell, we’ve only been involved for a few weeks—but with one flash of that grin, I’m usually done for, weak in the knees, ready to surrender.
This time? He’s holding back. He’s reserved beneath that expression. Almost like he’s concerned about something and hasn’t decided whether to tell me or not. I might be overthinking, but I have a sixth sense about these things.
“Is everything okay?” Searching his gaze, I lean into him. Perhaps closeness like this can coax whatever it is out from behind those always-processing eyes.
“I’m fine,” he replies with a little half smile. “Don’t worry.”
I’m fine. Oh god, no. Not I’m fine. Anything but I’m fine.
Something’s definitely wrong. I manage to give him a light squeeze as I explore every possibility, internally panicking.
Maybe he’s in some kind of trouble. Or is it his boss? Did someone find out we did it in his room at the fire department? Are they mad about the broken bed? Did the chief or Apollo say something to him?
“Are you sure?” I press ever so gently, trying to remind myself that men are wired different, so maybe androids are too. Just because some people are never fine when they say “I’m fine” doesn’t mean he’s not okay. Maybe I’m reading into things.
But Nolan’s touch is gentle, and his smile is sincere. The affection shining for me in his gaze is unmistakable. “Don’t worry,” he replies, and my hackles go down just a little. “Let’s just enjoy the movie.”
My woman senses aren’t giving up, but I’m never going to get anywhere here in the street. After paying for our tickets, I take his hand and let him lead me inside to our theater, then to our seats against the back wall. We’re seeing a romantic comedy, and a rather sleepy one, it seems, as there aren’t many people showing up.
He wraps his arm around me and buries his nose into my hair. “You smell amazing,” he whispers, nuzzling me and pulling me close. Maybe I really am overthinking. Wouldn’t be the first time. He trails his fingers through my hair, sending tingles up my spine. I devolve from curious about the movie to wanting him to just keep playing with my hair. I don’t know how he could’ve guessed this is one of my favorite sensations, but here we are, and I don’t care.
It’s hard to focus on the movie. Nolan proves to be the most wonderful distraction, tracing circles on my shoulder, my back. My body is his instrument, and only he knows how to play it. I don’t make it thirty minutes. I pull him in, and his lips devour mine. His hands wander cautiously over me. Occasionally we break away just to make sure we’re being quiet enough, discreet enough. But we’re in the very back row, everyone else is closer to the front, and nobody seems to notice us.
I’m beginning to think we should’ve just skipped the movie. I couldn’t name any of the actors, follow the plot, or see what’s so funny about it anymore. All my thoughts are of Nolan. The way he’s kissing me, how my body is on fire with yearning for him.
“Should we stop?” I whisper in his ear.
“Do you want to?” He nibbles my earlobe, causing me to shiver and melt simultaneously.
“No.”
Then he unbuttons my jeans and slips his hand down beneath my panties, testing my heat. “You’re so wet,” he whispers in my ear. My breath hitches as his middle finger finds my clit and begins circling, teasing. But my jeans are in the way, and his movements are constricted. Biting back a soft gasp, I wiggle the jeans partially off my hips, again nervously glancing toward the screen. So far, so good. As he continues fingering me, my legs only spread farther as I grind back against him, willing myself silent.
He holds my gaze, grinning slyly as he continues stroking. My mouth, slightly open, beckons him for another kiss, and he claims my mouth again. I’ve never done anything like this, not even when I was a teenager. The back seat of cars is one thing. But a theater with other people in the same room?
