Page 82 of Heartbeat

“You, holding me like this,” I said quietly. “Maybe you—”

“Wait, how is that bad?”

“It’s not bad—”

“Then, get used to it,” he stated casually.

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not what I mean—”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you keep being like this, I might get used to it. And I don’t mean only right now.”

“That’s what I thought you meant,” he said smugly.

“Ethan.”

“I’m not going to stop, Tom. If you want me to, really want me to, then just let go. Otherwise…”

“What?”

“Get used to it.”

He went silent after that. His hand kept running a circle on my back, his breathing remained steady-even his heartbeat maintained itself at a regular, strong pace. Slowly, I started warming up. I was still shaking, but as I felt his hand on my back I gradually began to loosen up, allowing for my body to find his. I didn’t dare look up; I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to let go either. So, I didn’t. Instead, I stretched my arm out again and adjusted myself on his chest, and as I did, his heart started beating faster.

Just like that, whatever line I’d been afraid of crossing was now behind me. Eventually, Ethan took his laptop and opened it so we could watch Only Lovers Left Alive.

“Are you really a Marlovian?” I asked during a scene in which Marlowe told Eve he wished he could’ve based Hamlet on Adam.

“I dunno,” he said. “It’s an interesting theory. Though I don’t think—”

He fell quiet as Eve started reading on the plane.

“Love alters not,

with his brief hours and weeks

But bears it out even to the edge of doom

If this be error and upon me proved

I never writ, nor no man ever loved”

“Marlowe, Shakespeare, I don’t care. It’s beautiful.” I pointed out.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Hey, we should go as them.”

“What?”

“To the party.”

“Shit, I forgot about the party.”

“Come on; costume parties are fun.”

“Are they?”

“Yours will be. Who are you going to invite?”

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