Social Clique

9.

His masculine finger pokes my side repeatedly until he catches my attention. "Which movie did you want to watch next?" he asks, pointing to the television screen that is currently playing the ending credits to our last movie.

Shrugging my shoulders, I climb off the couch and wander over to the pile of movies stacked in front of the television cabinet. I plonk in front and start scanning through the disks, behind me, I hear the sound of bones cracking as he comes to sit down next to me.

I pick a couple of movies and then hand the covers to him. "You can pick out of these," I say, getting up in the process. From the corner of my eye, I see him run his finger over the titles before picking one out of the bunch and placing it into the machine.

Before I get the chance to sit down on the couch, his arm circled around my waist, pulling me back into his warm chest. Paxton's finger scoops under my chin and pulls my head up to meet his piercing gaze. "What's wrong?" he whispers, his eyebrows creasing which cause wrinkles to form across his forehead.

 I really want to run my fingers over his forehead and smooth the wrinkles out, but I don't. I keep my hands by my waist and shake my head, even adding a smile for the show. "Nothing," I promise. Willing for him to believe everything is fine for the moment.

However, being the noisy but concerned guy he is, I know this is not the end of it. Instead, I feel his fingers lightly trail up and down my waist. The skittish, tingling feelings swirl up along my side, but I try my best not to make any indication he's starting to affect me.

A playful smirk appears on his face, and it's this point that I know I'm in for it! Paxton's hands travel under the brim of my shirt and travel across my stomach, they circle back and go straight up my sides again, this time out for a reaction.

The frantic movements drive me over the edge, a muffled laugh slips between my lips, next my legs give out and I start falling. I don't hit the ground because Paxton holds onto my arms and I end up dangling in the air.

"Stop, stop," I squeal out, laughing, but Paxton's just leaves my hanging around.

"Then tell me what's wrong." He tries to coax an answer from me. But I shake my head and keep my lips sealed shut. Paxton rolls his eyes and then places me on the ground. I try to use this as a chance to escape, but his hands hook around my legs and hold me still.

I end up tripping and falling on the ground and slamming my face. A stinging pain shoots through my nose. I think Pax understands my pain, so he stops and lets me wiggle onto my side. He immediately cups my face and lightly traces his fingers over my nose.

Looking down at my hands, I see a drop of blood landing on my hand. I bring my hand close to my nose, I pinch it to stop any more blood from flowing out. The pressure on my nose is annoying and the fact that I have to breathe out of my mouth is an annoying inconvenience, but I don't expect to see the look on his face...

His eyebrows are crinkled up and worry circles his beautiful blue eyes. "I'm sorry." He picks me up and pushes me over towards the sink, placing me on the bench next to it. He swats my hand away, trying to plug my nose with tissues.

For the next five minutes, Paxton stands in between my legs holding a tissue to my nose which a very serious guilty look. While I just glare, but he doesn't take me serious – who would? I'm sitting there with tissues sprouting out of my nose... heck, I wouldn't even take myself seriously.

Finally, Pax pulls the tissue away from my nose and we both look down at it. The square, white tissue is now stained scarlet from my blood. Pushing his hand with the tissue away from me, I wrinkle my nose. I was never a fan of blood, it just freaks me out.

I'm glad enough when he tosses the tissues into the waste basket and then turns his attention to cleaning the rest up. Paxton takes a new wash cloth and runs it under the water faucet next to him. When the cloth is soaking wet, he scrunches it up and starts dabbing it on my face.  

Just like before, when he's finished with the wash cloth, he tosses it in the bin. I'm disappointed when he moves away from me, but also glad that I have the chance to soak in the scene unfolding in front of me – I've never noticed the new muscles forming along his arms... I wonder if it's the same thing under his shirt.

He places both his hands back down on my sides, "Better?" he asks.

"Yes." I quickly nod.

"That's good," he says, kissing my nose. His hands start to rub up and down my sides, causing goose bumps to appear on my arm. "Do you want to watch another movie?" he questions.

Even though I want to run away and hide from this problem, I find myself nodding. Trying to build up the courage to end this relationship is so difficult, I don't know where I'll be able to find the courage to do so.

You only need thirty seconds of courage.

But I can't, I don't have the will power. So instead, I nod my head and charge towards the lounge to cuddle him and enjoy yet another movie. At least I can feel comfortable on the outside despite my insides churning like a raging sea.

"A movie sounds perfect," I smile in agreement.