This is what I’ve been craving all these weeks. Playfulness between us that could lead to something more. Nothing other than this has to happen tonight, but just the promise of a future makes me grin so hard that my cheeks ache.

Still, I need to be sure. I run my palms over her sweater-covered arms. Then, I cup her neck and delve my fingers into her hair, the way she did with mine. The silky strands tease my skin.

“So, that’s a yes? You’re okay with more?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “More sounds good to me.”

HOLLY

I wonder if he’ll grab my face and start kissing me. I’m actually looking forward to it.

Instead, Ben lets his hands fall away from my neck and laces our fingers together. He tugs me over to the shelf of movies and then moves to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on top of mine.

“Pick one.”

“Is this a test?”

His chuckle vibrates against my spine, and now, I’m sure I’m smiling as big as him.

“All of these movies are awesome, so you can’t really go wrong.”

I love it when Ben laughs, so I scan the titles for a comedy.

“This one.”

“Tommy Boy? You a Chris Farley fan?” He reaches around me to slide my choice off the shelf.

It’s odd how, one minute, we’re trying to figure out our relationship, and the next, he’s asking me about my favorite comedians. But I guess everything to do with us is a little weird.

“When Marcus went to Pops’s on the weekends, they’d stay up late to watch Saturday Night Live. Monday night, he would tell me about the skits. I would be so bummed that I couldn’t watch with them. Apparently, he told Pops because, one year, for Christmas, he got me the DVDs of the best of some of the cast members. Chris Farley’s was my favorite.”

I still have them. Whenever I need to smile, I pull one out.

“I knew you had good taste.” Ben moves away from me to put the movie in, and I settle on the couch.

Once it starts playing, he turns but doesn’t immediately sit down. The corner of his mouth curves up as his gaze traces over me. It’s only then I realize I’ve brought my knees up into my chest and wrapped my arms around them like I’m a hedgehog curling in on itself.

I let go of my legs and try to sit like a normal person, but I don’t think I’m doing it right. My back is stiff, and my legs cross and then uncross while my hands struggle to find where to go.

How do normal people sit again?

Ignoring my awkward movements, Ben plops down next to me. Then, without warning, he hooks me under the arms, and he half-lifts and half-shifts me until he’s reclined on the couch while I’m sprawled across his chest. I appreciate his high-handedness because, suddenly, I’m extremely comfortable.