Quiet Tension

Company

He's fully dressed in shorts and a t-shirt by the time I get back, and I grab my phone, heading back downstairs.

"I've decided we're going out for dinner tonight," Simon announces, sitting on the couch next to me.

"We are?" I ask, hopeful that he's forgotten about the whole staring situation from just a second ago.

"Yes. The nice Italian place a little off base," he says.

"Alright," I say.

Yet again, he tugs my legs into his lap, and he steals the remote, putting on some movie that I've never seen.

"One of my favorites," he says.

I half-pay attention as Simon starts to rub my feet. "Cute socks," he comments. They're pink, with hearts on them.

"I know," I say. What he's doing actually feels really good, so I let him continue.

I make us lunch, which ends up being tomato soup with grilled cheese. We eat on the couch, having started binging a series that I showed him.

He keeps me company, which I appreciate, even if I would be just fine without him.

Soon enough, it's time for us to start getting ready for dinner. Like he had this planned already, he gets a dress shirt with black pants out of his bag. I stand in front of my closet, trying to decide on what to wear.

"I'll let you get ready," Simon says, coming out of the bathroom looking all too handsome in his dark gray button-up.

I nod, and spend another few minutes looking, until I settle on a short and flowy, long sleeve, off-the-shoulder dress in my favorite shade of dark green.

I shower, spending way too long shaving and exfoliating - I tell myself it's too look good in the dress. I straighten my hair, put on some mascara and lipgloss, and spray my most expensive perfume, before slipping into the dress.

I decide on a pair of strappy black wedges before heading downstairs, Simon waiting by the door for me.

"You look..." he says, his eyes devouring every inch of me, up and down. "Fucking gorgeous."

I blush. "Thank you," I say, and he slips on his balaclava, opening the door for me and extending his arm.

I laugh at the schoolgirl feeling of it all, and he lifts me into his truck, his grasp on my waist lingering.

The restaraunt is incredible, with the best pasta I've probably ever had. We make conversation, talking vaguely about our path to joining the military, and then dessert rolls around.

"What would you like?" I ask, looking up from the menu. I'm looking at the tiramisu.

His eyes drop to my chest, drag slowly up my neck, and settle on my mouth. "Not sure," he says, his voice low.

To my embarrassment, I feel a sudden rush of blood to my cheeks, and down south.

"I was thinking the tiramisu," I say.

The waitress comes at that moment, and we order - Simon gets the same.

We eat dessert in silence, a quiet truth of the fact that the tension between us is bound to break choosing to take a seat with us.

Despite my efforts, Simon pays, quickly ushering me up out of my seat and to his truck.

"That was really nice, thank you," I say. I pop a piece of gum into my mouth, extending the pack to him.

"No thanks," he says, and I choose to look out the window, ignoring what's bound to happen. I pop bubbles, watching the view pass by too quickly.

We'll get back, he'll shower first, and then I'll shower, and then we'll probably just end up watching more TV, I tell myself.

We arrive back at my house, and he helps me out of his truck. I unlock the door, feeling the heat of him at my back.

I spit my gum out into the wrapper as Simon kicks off his shoes, tossing it in the trashcan before bending down to untie my heels.

By the time I stand back up, Simon is directly behind me, balaclava off. I see the hungry look in his eyes, then.

"Are you okay?" I ask, turning to look at him.

His eyes, yet again, drag up and down my body. "I'm fine," he says.

"Alright," I say, backing slowly away. He follows me, his steps too big for mine, and soon enough, I'm backed against the wall next to the stairs.

"How much longer?" he asks, voice deep and raspy.

"What do you mean?" I whisper, my skin tingling at his closeness. In anticipation.

"If you really don't want me, I'll back off," he says. "I'm sorry if I've come on too strong. I just want to keep you safe."

I open and close my mouth a couple of times, trying to decide what to say. "You haven't come on too strong."

"Do you want me?" he asks.

"In what way?" I ask, though I know the answer.

"In the same way I want you," he says. "The same way I wanted you in the pool."

I feel my skin heat at the memory, every nerve growing increasingly more hot at the second.

"Yes," I whisper, before I can stop myself.

I know Simon and I are inevitable. No matter what I tell myself, being alone and denying the one thing I've wanted for myself in years, is worse than defending against whatever unseen danger that I worry follows us.

I think about how he so fiercely protects me, how much he cares about me, and the fact that he's stuck around despite my coldness.

The coldness that doesn't exist anymore. I've melted beneath his very hands, and I want them on me again.

"I do want you," I say, finally meeting his eyes.

Simon's pupils blow wide, and he steps once more into me, his body pressing me into the wall. He slowly reaches to my hips, picking me up and stepping in between my legs. I wrap them around him, and he places a hand on my jaw.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Yes," I say.

He slams his mouth onto mine.