I get to Andy's parents' house at three-o'-seven. They only live about fifteen minutes from Galesburg—where I live—in the small town of Knoxville. I still find it strange that I never knew Andy until college, considering how close we'd lived prior. Granted, he did attend a different high school, but somehow my brother was friends with him and other than a couple of brief encounters, he was practically nonexistent to me. Come to think of it, I'm no longer close with any of my high school friends. As siblings, Chuck and I made extra effort in steering clear of each other in those days, so even his buddies weren't mine. Now, we share all the same friends. Honestly, I think I'm closer with them now than he is. I suppose marriage will do that to you—divide the married from the singles.
Stepping out of my car, I lock up and make my way to the front door. Knocking, I step back and wait for an invitation. When there isn't one, I quietly open the door and peek inside. The house is quiet. Too quiet.
Did Andy forget I was coming?
I slip inside, shutting the door softly behind me as I let my eyes wander over the multi-level home. From where I stand, I can see down the three steps into the living room, but nobody's there. I peer around the corner into the room on my right to find that the family room and dining room are also empty.
"Andy?" I call, a strange discomfort taking residence inside my chest. It's been so long since I've been here that it feels weird waltzing right in without an invitation.
Setting the grocery bag of goodies down on the floor next to my shoes, I creep down the stairs and find Andy's bedroom door closed. Maybe he's in there with his headphones on and can't hear me. Tapping on the wood, I step back and wait for him to answer. When there's no response, I pull out my phone and send him a quick text while I take the stairs on my left and venture into the basement.
The air is colder down here and smells slightly of mildew, but from what I can see, no one is here. This is typically where all the movie-nights take place. It's complete with a mini kitchen and a full media center with surround sound, so I figured this is where I would have found Andy, but nope.
Sighing, I pull out my phone again and decide to give him a call. It rings several times and I swear I can hear the soft melody of its ring coming from upstairs. Andy's got to be here somewhere.
Taking the steps two at a time, I keep my ears alert for where the sound might be coming from. At first, I suspect it's coming from the laundry room, which happens to be directly next to his, but as I near, I realize that it's ringing from behind the closed door of his bedroom. He's got to be in there, but for some reason, he's ignoring my calls.
Rapping my knuckles against the door again, I call out his name a bit louder. Again, nothing. Feeling frustrated, I twist the knob and very carefully crack the door open. Keeping my eyes diverted, I call out for him again, but when I'm met with silence, I chance peering inside.
There he is, sound asleep on his bed.
A compassionate frown finds its way over my lips and I slip into his room and make my way to his bed. I didn't drive twenty minutes to get here just so I could drive straight back home. I even got my parents to agree to watch Haley for a couple hours longer than normal. There's no way I'm not taking advantage of this freedom.
Deciding it'll be fun to freak him out, I gently crawl up onto his bed before flopping heavily down beside him. He jolts awake from the sudden disturbance, his glazed eyes finding mine instantly. His face goes from startled to relaxed, and halfway amused, within seconds. He closes his eyes, a sleepy smile spreading across his face as his arms find me and tug me against his side.
"I fell asleep," he mumbles against my shoulder, nuzzling in closer to me.
"And apparently I'm stupid, so thanks for the explanation," I tease, turning in his arms so that we're facing each other. "I would have had no clue what your snoring meant otherwise."
His eyes are still closed and it gives me the perfect opportunity to examine his face. Out of all the guys I'm friends with, I'm most shocked that Andy isn't married with children yet. Why's he not in a serious relationship, at the very least? Women have always loved him. He's tenderhearted, confident, and intuitive. The kind of man who snags people's attention like a child snagging up a handful of gummy bears. He's got the envied, strong jawline; the ever smiling, impossibly blue eyes; the straight nose; and temptingly touchable, dirty blonde hair. In short, if Mike's beautiful face wasn't blocking my view, Andy would definitely be on my radar.
But he's more than muscle and captivating features. He's also spirited and funny. No one can take a joke the way Andy does. He's easy-going and teaseable, but when he's relaxed and on the edge of sleep, his features appear slightly more sober. It's almost strange to see him without a smile on his lips. Almost. But if I'm being honest, I find this sober, unreadable Andy to be strangely enticing.
"You keep staring at me like that," he mumbles tiredly, "then I might start to think you want some of this." He uses a lazy, limp hand to motion down his body, his eyes still closed and voice half muffled by his pillow.
I laugh, using two fingers and walking them up his forearm. "Maybe I do."
He peeks one eye open, scrutinizing me for a moment. "Do you?"
He'd been teasing before, but there's a swell in the atmosphere now. Almost as if the universe is holding its breath as it waits for a response.
Rather than answer, I smack his shoulder and sit up. I hear him chuckle from his prone position as he rolls onto his back. With an exaggerated yawn, he stretches his arms, smacking me in the back of the head in the process.
"Whoops," he says unconcernedly. "Sorry."
"You just wanted an excuse to touch me again," I joke, twisting to find him staring up at the ceiling. When he feels my gaze on him, he tilts his head in my direction and shrugs.
"Yeah, sure. Maybe." Then he grabs the comforter and begins to roll himself up inside, pulling me along with it until I'm practically on top of him. But he doesn't stop there. He continues to tug until we're both on the edge of his king-sized bed and then with one final shove of his hips, I'm toppling onto the floor, a squeal passing through my lips on the way down.
"Andy!" I yell through my laughter, pushing myself up to find him rolled up in his comforter like a burrito.
"What?" he answers nonchalantly, attempting to shrug even though he's buried in his blanket.
Standing, I go to take a step and hiss, faking an injury to my ankle.
"What?" Andy asks again, only this time there's genuine concern in his voice.
"I think I sprained something with that fall."
"Crap, I'm sorry," he apologizes and then attempts to untangle himself from his own blankets. The sight has me doubled over in laughter. I swear he looks like a deranged cat trying to frantically fling tape off his paws.
He eventually topples from the bed, the comforter loosening enough to free him and then he's jumping into a standing position, his chest puffed out and a proud smile across his face—as if he's just managed to escape near death in the most heroic way possible.
"Okay," he breathes, dropping his smile and taking a step toward me where I'm still cackling. "Let me see it."
He starts to bend forward to grasp my leg so he can analyze the damage, but I instantly take off, running from his room—without even the slightest hint of a limp.
"Why you little..."
He's after me in a flash and, unfortunately for me, I'd greatly misjudged his athleticism. He has me snatched up in his arms in seconds, my body thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I'm immediately self-conscious, wondering if he's startled by my obvious weight gain. We're used to rough-housing with each other. He was always picking me up and lugging me around when we were in college, but it's been five years and let me just say, I'm probably heavier than I look. Thankfully, Andy doesn't even grunt or show the slightest indication of exertion.
He makes quick footwork of getting down the stairs and then chucks me onto the basement couch before turning toward the shelf of dvds.
"Here we go," he says, yanking the DVD from its home and wiggling it in the air. "Guardians of the Galaxy."
"Oh boy!" I squeal, clapping my hands like a child. "Oh, shoot! My snacks!"
I bolt from the couch and hurry up to the front door where my bag of goodies sits waiting. Thankfully, the ice cream hasn't melted much, so I snatch it up and mosey back into the basement. When I arrive, I find Andy on his phone, his voice hushed as he speaks with his back to me. When he senses that I've returned, he covers the mouthpiece and whispers that he'll be right back. Then he's casually climbing the stairs and disappearing out of sight.
The basement has small, high-ceiling windows in it that are level with the ground outside, so I'm able to see Andy's feet when he steps onto the sidewalk. I see nothing but his jean-clad legs as he paces back and forth on the pavement. I'm about to give up watching for him to enter the house again but just as I go to pull my phone out so I can entertain myself with the latest mindless game I'd downloaded, a sleek silver car pulls up out front. When the door swings open and a pair of impossibly long legs slide out, I'm completely enthralled.
Andy makes his way to the redhead who's just stepped foot on his driveway, her black stiletto's most likely clip-clopping toward him even though I can't hear anything. The two converse and for a moment I wonder if she's his latest fling. I've never known Andy to have a fling before—he's more of the serious relationship type—but I can't imagine the woman standing before him to want more than just a good time. Her entire attire screams 'dance, play, be on my way.'
I feel like I'm watching a soap opera, waiting for the moment when Andy takes the woman in his arms and bends her back as he leans down for a passionate kiss. Instead, I see the redhead scowl at him before waving her hand dismissively in his face and stalking back to her car. The tires screech as she pulls away and Andy simply shakes his head before pivoting around and heading back toward the house.
I divert my gaze but not before catching the lines of fatigue woven into his forehead. He's clearly stressed and I briefly wonder if I should bother bringing up my stalker to him tonight like I'd originally planned. Deciding to just see how the evening plays out, I stand to grab a spoon from the kitchenette before settling back onto the couch with my dessert.
"Everything okay?" I ask when Andy shuffles back down the stairs.
"Yeah," he sighs, shrugging a single shoulder as he makes his way to the cupboard and pulls out a glass and fills it with water.
I eye him for a moment, watching the stiffness in his shoulders slowly unravel.
"You sure?"
His gaze finds mine as he settles into the couch and takes a long drink. We watch each other over the rim of his glass until he's downed every last drop of water and then he sets the cup on the side table.
"I'm sure everything will be fine," he reassures me, though I'm pretty sure he's the one who needs assurance right now.
"Okay." Doubt is heavily woven into the single word but Andy ignores it as he grabs for the remote. "You'd talk to me if there was something bothering you, right?"
"If I ever feel the need to chitchat about my drama, then yes," he jokes, glancing at me from the corner of his eye and smirking. "You'll be the first to know all about it."
He hits play, adjusts the volume and then settles back against the couch.
"Is it girlfriend problems?" I persist, clamping my lips together to seal my smile from his scrutinizing gaze. "You got a special lady in your life? Do you need relationship advice? Ask me anything. I'm an expert on all things 'girl.'"
"I'm sure you are," he laughs, though I don't miss the slight flicker of his eyes over my body.
My mouth drops open. "Andy Fletcher! Did you just check me out?"
The laugh that fills the room doesn't even phase me. I'm too stunned by Andy's blatant perusal of my figure to find the humor in it. He, on the other hand, can't seem to get his cackling under control.
"What?" I squirm. "Is it such a ridiculous concept?"
"No—"
"Who would ever go so far as to check out Lindsey—"
"No." The humor has vanished from Andy's face, his laughter coming to an abrupt halt.
"—the girl who's now just a blob of who she once was," I continue, ignoring the astonished look on his face.
"Lindsey—"
"I get it," I say, lifting my pint of ice cream in the air. "This is my enemy—"
"Come on, Linds—"
"But why does my enemy have to taste so marvelous?"
"—Lindsey!"
I turn my attention to my ice cream. "I eat enemies like you for breakfast!" I yell at it, pointing my spoon at the container in accusation.
"What on earth...?" I hear Andy whisper beside me, and I chance a quick glance at him to find a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. When he catches my eye, my facade breaks and we're both cackling together. "You had me there for a second," he admits around his laughter.
"Yeah, well," I shrug, trying to catch my breath. "It's mostly true, but I think I've learned to accept my new fluffy self."
"Oh, shut up," Andy groans. "You're gorgeous. Besides, I think most guys prefer a little something to hold onto besides bones."
"Oh, really?" I question, brows raised in sly speculation.
"Yes," he nods. "I am one of those guys."
"Hmmm." I tap my spoon against my chin in playful appraisal. "Interesting. Very interesting."
"Okay, shut up," Andy says, yanking his long legs up onto the couch and shoving them against my thigh. "The movie's starting now."
"The movie's starting now," I mock childishly, sticking my spoon in my mouth and using my free hand to pull his legs into my lap. I'd rather his legs be on me than trying to smash me into the fabric of the armrest.
Then I settle in to enjoy the movie, the suspicious notes and my possible stalker temporarily forgotten.
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I, personally, loved this chapter. Anyone else with me? What did you enjoy most?