Somethin' About That Boy

I grinned at him. “Do I make you nervous, Banner?”

He licked his lips. “I’m trying to be good. So I’m talking. Instead of doing what I really want.”

My belly tightened. “And what’s that?”

“To kiss you,” he said simply.

I grinned.

“I think that might be okay,” I whispered nervously.

Oh, God. It felt like a whole freakin’ swarm of butterflies had taken flight in my belly. Like that massive migration that the butterflies took to the south every freakin’ year when the weather started to turn cold. Only, this swarm was all due to Banner and his wicked smile.

“I think that if I kissed you, I might not want to stop,” he said. “And we don’t know each other well enough to do that yet.”

He was right.

Sadly.

But that didn’t make him saying no to kissing me any better.

He walked over to my nightstand and picked up the remote, aiming at the television in the corner moments later.

“This is the smallest television in the world,” he said as he glanced at it.

Or squinted, more likely.

“I don’t spend much time in here watching television,” I admitted. “I’ve never needed anything bigger. If you want to watch a better TV, we can go to the game room.”

“You have a game room?” he asked.

I nodded. “We do.”

“Take me to it,” he ordered, holding out his hand.

I sat up and reached for it, trying to act like my heart wasn’t pounding a thousand miles a minute as I led him to where he wanted to go.

When we got there, he hissed. “This… this is… wow.”

I snorted. “My dad built this room for us. But then decided he needed a mancave because we talk too much during movies. Which then turned into him being in there, and us being in here. I think I spend more time in here than in my own bed half the time.”

He chuckled softly, causing warm tingles to dance along my skin.

“The couch looks more like a bed,” he said.

And the way he said it made me blush from the roots of my hair to the tops of my shoulders.

At least, that was all he could see, anyway.

He walked around the couch and sat down in the very corner, putting his legs up on the ottoman.

Then he held his hand out, ordering me without words to come sit next to him.

I did, but first I gathered up the remote from my usual spot and tossed it to him.

He caught it easily, turning it on and raising his arm again as he waited.

“I’m not sure what to watch,” he said. “What’s good? I don’t usually watch television at all.”

I didn’t either, usually.

“When I have time to waste, I always watch something on Netflix,” I said. “I hear they have a few good horrors that are out right now. The Haunting of Hill House has gotten excellent reviews.”

He looked at me side-eyed.

“You’re sure that you want to watch something scary?” he asked casually.

I looked at him with amusement.

“What, are you scared?” I asked. “You’re living by yourself. Maybe you don’t want to watch something like that.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s you.”

I scoffed and ordered him to cue it up.

He did, and I got comfortable at his side. Not necessarily leaning into him, but close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from his body.

The first part of the show started, and I tensed when I saw the funeral parlor.

“They just start right off with a bang, don’t they?” I murmured, staring at it.

A light touch on my arm had me looking over my shoulder with a gasp.

“Dad!” I cried out.

He rolled his eyes and gave me the pizza box. “Mom ordered some Cinnastix, too. If you want some, you’ll have to come fight us for them in the kitchen.” He paused. “Possibly an arm-wrestling match. Though, your mother would have to do it since I don’t really have an arm.”

I snickered and thanked him for the box. Then handed it to Banner as I stood to go get us drinks and towels.

When I came back, he was patiently waiting for me to get back before he handed me the first slice.

“There’s another pizza in there,” I said. “Don’t get all sad and eat less than you normally would.”

He flashed me a grin and hit play on the show we’d been about to watch.

I was happily nibbling on my third piece when I nearly choked to death.

Banner hit pause and slapped me on the back, looking at me with concern.

“Do you need me to give you the Heimlich?” he asked, not altogether joking.

I shook my head.

“No,” I wheezed, eyes watering. “I think that a little bite went down the wrong hole, though. I swear to God. That was bad.”

“The almost choking thing, or the dead girl not dead thing?” he asked curiously.