Check, Please (Book #2)

Thirty-Two.

Melanie made hot chocolate and popcorn for us while I wandered in circles around her living room, examining the various knick knacks that she and her roommate had used to decorate. They shared an affinity for potted succulents, I learned, in addition to owning a vast collection of scented candles—all of which made me sneeze when I lifted them to my nose.

As I sat down on the tan leather couch, I thought to myself that it was weird how you could always tell if girls lived in a house—or apartment, in this case. I couldn't put my finger on what made it obvious but it was something. Maybe it was because girls rarely seemed to decorate with furniture they'd found in junkyards, something that certainly wasn't true for my friends and I.

I propped my head on my fist while I watched Melanie busy herself in the kitchen. "Are you sure you don't want help?" I asked for the third time. She dismissed my offer by waving her hand.

"I'm sure," she said. "And just so you know, I still won't need help when you ask me again in five minutes."

I laughed and she smiled down at the countertop while the sound of popcorn popping continued to fill the air. When everything was ready, I jumped up and grabbed the two mugs of cocoa before she could protest, though I felt a piece of popcorn bounce off the back of my head as I bent down to set the drinks on the coffee table. If we had been at my place, that would've been the start to an all out food fight, but instead I motioned for her to sit next to me on the couch. Almost hesitantly, she curled up beside me, her head against my shoulder. I wasn't sitting in the world's most comfortable position but I didn't dare shift in my seat in case the movement scared Melanie away.

Hoping that the aching in my back would pass soon, I gritted my teeth while the opening credits to the film she'd chosen started to play on her TV. I tried to pay attention to the story, I really did, but it was hard when I hated all of the characters the moment they appeared on the screen.

There was another reason why I was having trouble focusing, however, and that had less to do with the movie and more to do with the fact that Melanie had taken to absentmindedly stroking my thigh, squeezing it whenever she laughed. I glanced at her the first few times she did it, wondering if she was trying to get me to react, but it was clear that her fingers were traveling up and down my leg without any thought. I swallowed hard, did multiplication in my head, and started to make a mental list of all the things I needed to do before I flew home. Nothing worked, and eventually I couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey, Melanie?" I began, and she sat up before turning to look at me. My muscles sang with joy as I finally settled into a more comfortable position.

"Hm?"

She smiled sweetly, oblivious to my inner struggle. I reached out to brush her hair from her face, completely entranced by her hazel stare. I licked my bottom lip and then pulled her into my chest, kissing her roughly. At first she seemed surprised by the feverish intensity of my mouth against hers, but it didn't take long before she began to return my kiss. The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten by both of us while our make out session grew more frenzied.

We broke apart when the ending credits began to roll. She breathed heavily as she caught my hand and stopped me from fumbling with the clasp on her belt. "We can't," she whispered, and I nodded despite feeling a twinge of disappointment.

"Yeah, of course, that's—I get it. That's fine." I gestured at the TV, which had reverted to its home screen. "Do you want me to go?"

Melanie looked confused. "No, why?"

Embarrassed, I sat back. "Well, I don't want you to feel pressured into doing anything, so—"

"What I meant was that we can't hook up out here. I don't know if my roommate's coming home tonight and she'd kill me." Her cheeks colored prettily before she added, "It's her couch."