Cold Reads | HS

Focus

November 2023

"You're quite cuddly today," Francesca remarked quietly, fingers lightly tracing my collarbone. I pulled back slightly to see her face.

"Is this okay?" I asked, voice raspy. I removed my hand from her hair to roll away, but her hand on my back tightened, keeping me close. Our skin stuck together, tacky from sweat.

"Stay," she quietly commanded. Her bare leg adjusted between mine so that the back of her ankle was hooked behind mine. "You haven't let me cuddle you before."

An unexpected warmth and ripple of fondness for her burst through me. Clearing my throat, I said, "I don't remember ever being particularly un-cuddly."

I racked my brain for anytime I had shied away from affection from her. When we were out together, we were very physical, at least in my opinion. Holding hands, my hand on her thigh, her arm looped through mine.

"Every time we have sex you immediately roll over onto your back," she whispers. Her lips delicately press against my collarbone. "And you never pull me with you. And times when we're positioned so that you're... already on your back... you just lie there flat afterward."

"Hmmph," I chuckled into her neck. I could tell by the way that she tilted her head that my breath tickled her. "I never knew you wanted to cuddle. You haven't exactly initiated anything, either."

"Well when you lie there stiff as a board, I don't usually consider it an invitation," she grumbled, and I knew I had to tell her the embarrassing truth before she got upset.

"I have a bad back," I confessed. "I sleep flat on my back as well." Feeling cheeky and wanting her to lighten up, I slid my hand down her back to cup her arse in my hand. "So sometimes, after vigorous love making, my body needs to recuperate." I squeezed her playfully.

I felt her smile. "You're so hot that sometimes I forget that I'm fake-dating a Grandpa."

I tensed for a second. I had been caught up in the moment. This fake-dating scheme was becoming far too believable. I shoved away the shock by rolling onto my back, making sure that this time I pulled her with me.

Resettled, me flat on my back with Francesca's head on my chest, I stared at my ceiling. I'd have to arrange for the light fixtures to be dusted. Francesca hummed under her breath as her fingers outlined tattoos on my upper body.

"Harry?"

"Francesca?"

She chuckled softly. "What's your next project?"

"Not directing," I said. We were in the middle of the editing stages of the film. Luckily, the office was in Los Angeles, so I could still be home through this process. However, on some late nights, the commute to and from Malibu was daunting. Francesca had allowed me to crash at her apartment in West Hollywood a few times, but I needed to start looking for a small, short-term apartment of my own considering all of the late nights and early mornings.

"You didn't like it?" she asked.

"No, I did. But I've been talking to Carla a lot... and I would really love to get back into music eventually."

Francesca shifted to look at me, resting her chin on my chest. It was sharp on my rib cage, but I didn't complain.

"Music?" she asked, intrigued. "Really?"

"Yeah," I responded. "Music is my real passion." Her hair tickled my chest, so I moved it so it fell down her back. "I've been wanting to write but at the end of the day when I have free time I'm so exhausted that I can't focus."