Grant. He smiled back and realized with bittersweet recognition these were the moments he lived for. Moments like these when he could pretend they were a loving couple watching their small child sleeping. Bliss.
Walking past him toward the doorway, Charlie grabbed the handheld baby monitor and turned the dimmer down on the lights. Turning, she walked back toward the living room. Giving his daughter one last look, Grant followed Charlie. He entered the living room shortly after her and watched as she sat on the overstuffed couch she loved and curled her legs under her. Grant took a swig of his beer and suddenly felt awkward.
“Thanks for cleaning up,” Charlie said, smiling.
Taking another drink of his beer, Grant answered, “No problem. You do the cooking and I do the cleaning.”
“Did you get enough cookies?”
“Yep. Oh, and I packed some of the food away for lunch tomorrow. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, gosh, no. I couldn’t eat all that food.”
***
Watching Grant stand in the middle of the room drinking his beer, Charlie’s feelings of awkwardness began to intensify.
“Grant, can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.” Charlie winced at how hard her voice sounded even to herself.
Blushing sheepishly, Grant went to sit in the antique chair. With soft music playing in the background, Charlie began to feel increasingly nervous watching Grant sit across from her drinking his beer. Taking one last swig, he stood.
“Well, it’s getting late. I better get my stuff together and head out.”
“It’s not even eight yet. Want to watch a movie? I can make some popcorn.”
Charlie was actually surprised by her own statement, so when she saw Grant raise his eyebrows in a visual illustration of her own feelings, she felt a slight blush begin on her cheeks.
“Um, sure. Okay.”
“Cool. You can look through my DVD collection while I make popcorn.”
She scurried from the room before he could change his mind. She focused her attention on making popcorn and putting cookies on a plate because if she didn’t her nerves would get the better of her. This would probably be a good time for them to have a talk, clearly define what they meant to each other, but instead she wanted to coast on the fantasy that had been created while she watched Grant kiss a sleeping Stella goodnight. In this fantasy, she and Grant were a loving couple having quiet time while their child slept. In this fantasy, she didn’t bottle up her feelings of love and could snuggle freely with Grant on the couch.
She rested her head against a cabinet and tried to steady her racing heart. She pulled herself from the fantasy in her mind before it could spiral to the place she really wanted to be. Not just snuggled against Grant against the couch, but pressed firmly against him as he fit snugly inside her. Charlie moaned as her body heated and her panties became damp.
“I hope you don’t mind. I was kind of in a mood for horror,” Grant called out from the living room, and instead of pulling her back from the brink, the sound of the deep timbre of his voice excited her more.
“I love a good horror movie,” she yelled back as she poured the popcorn into a bowl.
She hesitated at the refrigerator. Would it look too obvious if she kept giving him alcohol? she wondered. Scrunching her face, she chastised her neurotic self and took a beer out of the fridge. What she needed was a cold beer or a shot of whiskey, but she didn’t feel like doing a pump and dump before Stella’s next feeding. It was probably for the best, considering a drunken man’s words were a sober man’s thoughts.
Sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, Grant had the remote in his hand. Placing the tray next to him and sitting on the couch, Charlie looked at the flat screen on the opposite wall.
“Oh, this is my favorite zombie movie,” she said, reaching down for her beer and a handful of popcorn. “You didn’t want to sit on the couch?”
Walking past him toward the doorway, Charlie grabbed the handheld baby monitor and turned the dimmer down on the lights. Turning, she walked back toward the living room. Giving his daughter one last look, Grant followed Charlie. He entered the living room shortly after her and watched as she sat on the overstuffed couch she loved and curled her legs under her. Grant took a swig of his beer and suddenly felt awkward.
“Thanks for cleaning up,” Charlie said, smiling.
Taking another drink of his beer, Grant answered, “No problem. You do the cooking and I do the cleaning.”
“Did you get enough cookies?”
“Yep. Oh, and I packed some of the food away for lunch tomorrow. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, gosh, no. I couldn’t eat all that food.”
***
Watching Grant stand in the middle of the room drinking his beer, Charlie’s feelings of awkwardness began to intensify.
“Grant, can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.” Charlie winced at how hard her voice sounded even to herself.
Blushing sheepishly, Grant went to sit in the antique chair. With soft music playing in the background, Charlie began to feel increasingly nervous watching Grant sit across from her drinking his beer. Taking one last swig, he stood.
“Well, it’s getting late. I better get my stuff together and head out.”
“It’s not even eight yet. Want to watch a movie? I can make some popcorn.”
Charlie was actually surprised by her own statement, so when she saw Grant raise his eyebrows in a visual illustration of her own feelings, she felt a slight blush begin on her cheeks.
“Um, sure. Okay.”
“Cool. You can look through my DVD collection while I make popcorn.”
She scurried from the room before he could change his mind. She focused her attention on making popcorn and putting cookies on a plate because if she didn’t her nerves would get the better of her. This would probably be a good time for them to have a talk, clearly define what they meant to each other, but instead she wanted to coast on the fantasy that had been created while she watched Grant kiss a sleeping Stella goodnight. In this fantasy, she and Grant were a loving couple having quiet time while their child slept. In this fantasy, she didn’t bottle up her feelings of love and could snuggle freely with Grant on the couch.
She rested her head against a cabinet and tried to steady her racing heart. She pulled herself from the fantasy in her mind before it could spiral to the place she really wanted to be. Not just snuggled against Grant against the couch, but pressed firmly against him as he fit snugly inside her. Charlie moaned as her body heated and her panties became damp.
“I hope you don’t mind. I was kind of in a mood for horror,” Grant called out from the living room, and instead of pulling her back from the brink, the sound of the deep timbre of his voice excited her more.
“I love a good horror movie,” she yelled back as she poured the popcorn into a bowl.
She hesitated at the refrigerator. Would it look too obvious if she kept giving him alcohol? she wondered. Scrunching her face, she chastised her neurotic self and took a beer out of the fridge. What she needed was a cold beer or a shot of whiskey, but she didn’t feel like doing a pump and dump before Stella’s next feeding. It was probably for the best, considering a drunken man’s words were a sober man’s thoughts.
Sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, Grant had the remote in his hand. Placing the tray next to him and sitting on the couch, Charlie looked at the flat screen on the opposite wall.
“Oh, this is my favorite zombie movie,” she said, reaching down for her beer and a handful of popcorn. “You didn’t want to sit on the couch?”
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