“You were an idiot,” she said simply. She reached out and forced him to lie down completely. He was surprised when her pressure felt like a ton of bricks on his chest, as if everything was more sensitive. He felt weaker than he ever had been before. “Mike got you out of there before anything else could’ve --”
He jumped up again, sending the covers flying. “Mike!” he said, startled. “I’ve got to --”
“Lie back down,” she finished for him as she wrapped the lost sheets around him again, her arms around his body for a moment, sending an odd sensation up through his body. “Excellent idea. I agree completely.”
“No!” Xander shook his head defiantly, making his brain slosh around inside his skull. “You don’t understand! I have to--”
“Re-lax,” she finished again, putting a little more punch into the words as she shoved him down, just to let him know that she was serious. He tried to get up again, so she lay down on him. She wrapped her arms around his upper torso and cuddled in until she was on his entire right side, resting her head comfortably into the nape of his neck.
He tried to protest again, but found that he couldn’t bring himself to. Like his limbs had temporarily stopped listening to his brain and were instead concentrating on what his heart was telling him to do. “Where is Mike?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“He went home late last night. Somebody had to do the round robin thing.”
“Round robin?”
“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly, adjusting her head a little to get comfortable. She wrapped one of her arms up around his head without looking, playfully stroking the hairs behind his ears. “You know, that’s when he calls my parents to tell them that I’m over there, so that they don’t worry, then he calls your parents to tell them the same thing, so they don’t come in here and find the two of us...” she paused, looking over at the trashed computer. “...or anything else, for that matter.”
“Yeah. I really need to clean that up,” he admitted.
“Yeah, you really do,” she agreed, in a tone of voice that let him know this was one of those things that should have gone without saying.
He leaned in slightly, until his lips were right next to her ear. Her cheek was infinitely tweak-able, so he tweaked it as he whispered, “I really have to get up, you know.”
She rubbed her cheek softly, shifting her head so that she could see him. “The only way you’re getting out of this bed is with your claws inside my body.”
He paused and leaned in a little. “Be careful. That sentence could be taken the wrong way...”
She reached out and pinched his cheek with her nails and he winced, proving he was still in need of being bedridden. “Don’t be a jerk,” she whispered without realizing it.
“Very funny,” he shot back, but it wasn’t a whisper now. As they both had drawn closer, it had become more hushed. Like lovers taking in slight gasps for fear of being caught.
“Look very... very... closely,” she instructed him, and he took it as encouragement to get even closer. “You’ll see that I’m not joking.”
They both stopped, opening their eyes to their fullest. They both realized at once just how close they’d allowed their two faces to become. They shuffled apart, slowly at first and then with increasing speed, as he looked around for his shirt. He coughed away his discomfort, clearing his throat, then turned to her. “So, time to get up now?”
“Definitely,” she responded happily, without actually turning to look at him.
He watched her get up, watched how her white blouse stuck to her slim body like glue. Not super-model slim, the kind that you’d be afraid to hug in case you’d break a rib, but just the right size. The way her hips swiveled when she walked over to the window facing Sara’s house, just standing there and looking out at it. “My parents are gone then?” he asked, the typically casual conversation losing all of its calm atmospheric qualities.
“Yep,” she said, a perky word. But her voice wasn’t perky, it was distant now. Her hand played with a few strands of her hair that had gotten tangled between her teeth. She turned then, as if finally acknowledging that they had spoken. “Why?” she asked, and there was a mischief in her voice that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
He smiled.
Tim gave the door to The Factory one final shove, steadying himself as it finally jerked open. He hadn’t been to the teenage arcade/club/pool hall very often while he lived in Coral Beach, but he had never had that much trouble opening the door before. He suspected it had something to do with the heat from the sun beating down almost directly onto the rust-splotched door, the same heat that had small circles of sweat gathering at the nape of his neck and the armpits of his blue striped shirt. He closed the door behind him quickly, trapping the heat outside and breathing in the cool air-conditioned atmosphere inside. He smirked at himself, his hand still on the door, as he turned to enter the main part of the club.
The place was all but empty except for a couple of kids skipping school, one waitress, and the
