Jones watches the screen intently, and I wish this was hard for him, too. All I can think about is the six inches between us and how much I wish they were zero. Half a foot feels insurmountable. But at the same time, if I moved my hand a little bit, then maybe a little more, I would touch his leg.
Subconsciously, or perhaps not so subconsciously at all, I let my hand fall from my waist to the mattress. A little closer now. His gaze roams to my hand, dangerously near his hip. He turns to me. His eyes lock with mine, and my breathing stops. I want to look away, but I want to stare into his deep blue eyes. With his voice a little gravelly, he asks, “Do you like the movie?”
My heart thumps hard against my chest. I lick my lips. “It’s great.”
“You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?”
Lifting my neck a little, I shake my head, my hair spilling against the pillow. He watches as my hair moves. I watch his face. He looks at my hand. I glance at his hand. I swear it slides a millimeter closer to mine, then another, then more.
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