onto a plush beige carpet after removing his shoes. There wasn’t anything too extravagant that furnished it. A tan upholstered sofa and love seat was positioned in the middle of the floor facing the television, with a glass coffee table in the center. Before he could take a seat, his eyes were immediately drawn to her massive DVD collection on a shelf beside the television.
“Wow, you must really be a hopeless romantic,” he joked.
“No, I just like good tear jerker,” she smiled.
He laughed as his eyes traveled the titles of each movie. Sleepless in Seattle, Love and Basketball, The Best Man – all love stories.
“Looks pretty hopeless to me” he laughed.
He leaned down to one he, too, had buried in his collection at home. Love Jones.
“Now this was a good movie.”
“That’s surprising,” she doubtfully noted.
“What, that it’s a good movie?”
“No, that you actually think it was.”
They playfully exchanged quoted lines from the movie, laughing hysterically at each other’s attempt to know more than the other. They spent almost an hour remembering and trying to remember where they were when they saw it last, who they were with, and so many other memories. The laughter began to die down between them, along with what they could remember from the movie.
Mason leaned back in the love seat, sitting only inches away from Sydney. “Let's watch it,” he suggested.
Although she initially hesitated at his request, she found herself putting the DVD into the player and getting comfortable beside him. She leaned into his arms, resting her head lightly on his chest, seeming to have done it a thousand times before. Her feet nestled into the end of the love seat in between the throw pillows and cushion as she handed him the remote control. She found a comfort in resting on him that he was just beginning to find in himself: the feeling of space and opportunity restrained by simplicity, by feeling more than a body pressed against him, by affection. He took a few nervous breaths before inching his arm from the top of the loveseat onto hers and pressed play.
His eyes glued to the television, he wondered again what he was doing. Between last night and this very moment, the feeling of being on auto pilot was an understatement. He thought back as far as the wedding when he first saw her, their conversation at the bar, her giving him her phone number, and of course the following weeks in which she hadn’t left his mind. This isn’t me, he thought, almost convincingly. He kept pointing out things that he just didn’t do, but everything he’d been through in the previous twenty-four hours said the complete opposite. He wasn’t one to cuddle , but there he was with Sydney lying on his chest, her breathing almost in sync with his own. Most of all, he didn’t do relationships, but there he sat in her house, on her sofa watching a movie, feeling the inevitable conclusion of one presenting itself.
Soon the only sounds in the room were those that echoed from scenes in the movie. Sydney had drifted off to sleep, and Mason couldn’t help but look upon her as if he were counting her every breath. Hearing her inhale and exhale was like a composed tune in his head to a soundtrack of his own Love Jones . The walls around him seemed to disappear and the windows that once yielded light into the living room blended in with the only colors that seemed to matter in that moment in time her soft caramel skin tone, the blush of her lips, and her thick, dark eyelashes that concealed those almond brown eyes. He was so far from what he was used to, the uncharted territories, unfamiliar thoughts and feelings. He felt his world slow down in that moment, and for once he embraced the possibility of feeling more than a meaningless touch. He embraced the idea of her.
Chapter 16
As the days passed, weeks turned into the season’s end. Mason and Sydney were no longer
“Wow, you must really be a hopeless romantic,” he joked.
“No, I just like good tear jerker,” she smiled.
He laughed as his eyes traveled the titles of each movie. Sleepless in Seattle, Love and Basketball, The Best Man – all love stories.
“Looks pretty hopeless to me” he laughed.
He leaned down to one he, too, had buried in his collection at home. Love Jones.
“Now this was a good movie.”
“That’s surprising,” she doubtfully noted.
“What, that it’s a good movie?”
“No, that you actually think it was.”
They playfully exchanged quoted lines from the movie, laughing hysterically at each other’s attempt to know more than the other. They spent almost an hour remembering and trying to remember where they were when they saw it last, who they were with, and so many other memories. The laughter began to die down between them, along with what they could remember from the movie.
Mason leaned back in the love seat, sitting only inches away from Sydney. “Let's watch it,” he suggested.
Although she initially hesitated at his request, she found herself putting the DVD into the player and getting comfortable beside him. She leaned into his arms, resting her head lightly on his chest, seeming to have done it a thousand times before. Her feet nestled into the end of the love seat in between the throw pillows and cushion as she handed him the remote control. She found a comfort in resting on him that he was just beginning to find in himself: the feeling of space and opportunity restrained by simplicity, by feeling more than a body pressed against him, by affection. He took a few nervous breaths before inching his arm from the top of the loveseat onto hers and pressed play.
His eyes glued to the television, he wondered again what he was doing. Between last night and this very moment, the feeling of being on auto pilot was an understatement. He thought back as far as the wedding when he first saw her, their conversation at the bar, her giving him her phone number, and of course the following weeks in which she hadn’t left his mind. This isn’t me, he thought, almost convincingly. He kept pointing out things that he just didn’t do, but everything he’d been through in the previous twenty-four hours said the complete opposite. He wasn’t one to cuddle , but there he was with Sydney lying on his chest, her breathing almost in sync with his own. Most of all, he didn’t do relationships, but there he sat in her house, on her sofa watching a movie, feeling the inevitable conclusion of one presenting itself.
Soon the only sounds in the room were those that echoed from scenes in the movie. Sydney had drifted off to sleep, and Mason couldn’t help but look upon her as if he were counting her every breath. Hearing her inhale and exhale was like a composed tune in his head to a soundtrack of his own Love Jones . The walls around him seemed to disappear and the windows that once yielded light into the living room blended in with the only colors that seemed to matter in that moment in time her soft caramel skin tone, the blush of her lips, and her thick, dark eyelashes that concealed those almond brown eyes. He was so far from what he was used to, the uncharted territories, unfamiliar thoughts and feelings. He felt his world slow down in that moment, and for once he embraced the possibility of feeling more than a meaningless touch. He embraced the idea of her.
Chapter 16
As the days passed, weeks turned into the season’s end. Mason and Sydney were no longer
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