Worst Kind of Wrong

Chapter 6

Charlie

I curl up on the couch next to Conor and pass him the popcorn bowl.

I can't believe I just invited him to watch a movie with me. 

On my couch.

And what was I thinking when I mentioned the wine? That was the worst idea I've ever had. It's uncomfortable enough that our legs are rubbing against each other, even though I'm sober.

It's like my body is always awake when he's around. It's my pulse, my breathing, my skin... 

He just... wakes me up.

I don't like that he has this power over my body. It's not that I haven't been attracted to other guys before. I'm not a prude. I've had boyfriends, three to be precise. And I also slept with Dr. Fierman, who was my only casual fuck.

I just never had a hard time controlling how my body reacts to a guy. And now I'm afraid he'll notice it. 

God, I hope he won't. 

He probably thinks I'm a kid, because of the age difference between us. I'm not sure how old he is, but I know he must be close to thirties...

He's not like any of the guys I've been with, that's for sure. Even Dr. Fierman who must be close to his age, seems more "normal". Conor seems so much... different. Although he jokes and teases me all the time, he always has this heavy cloud around him.

Most of the time it feels like he's not even here. It seems that he's asleep on the inside and that what he shows is not his true self. Worse than that, I feel that if I push too hard, I'll discover a darker side of him that I don't know if I'd be prepared for.

I know now that it's because of his sister's death. They were close. For a few seconds when he told me, I could see his pain, his despair, his darkness. 

He didn't overtake her death. How could he?

I wonder what she died of. From illness, perhaps? He didn't advance the conversation and I didn't want to insist either. Like I said, Conor doesn't strike me as the type of person who takes pressure.

I'm just curious about him. What does he do for a living? Does he have more family? Aside from the girls he brings home, he doesn't seem to have any other visitors. And I only see him going out to run, so I don't think he has a job either.

As all these questions cross my mind, I find myself speaking out loud.

"Do you have a job?" I shoot, regretting it immediately.

He looks at me, giving me a surprised look.

"I'm sorry, I was just wondering"

"Is the movie that boring?" he asks.

I smile, resigned that I won't have an answer. But after a few seconds of silence, he replies to my question.

"I own a company" he says "I started it with my sister, but... now it's almost closed. We are no longer in production."

"Oh... I'm sorry" Now I feel bad that I bring it back "Sorry I'm being nosy"

"It's ok" he smiles and drives his attention back to the movie.

We remained silent for the rest of the movie, but we exchanged casual glances. Until I start to feel tickles in my left leg. I look at it and realize his fingers are caressing it. It's probably involuntary, it has to be. Because his concentration seems to land on the movie. He probably doesn't even realize he's doing it. But God, I am. I can't even focus on the movie anymore because the only thing I can think about is in his hand on my leg. And it feels good.