Page 38 of Blue Line

“What do you want to watch?” I ask before shoving the rest of my pizza into my mouth.

“Whatever,” she says.

“Not going to work, Hadley. Just like dinner, I want to know what you’re in the mood for.”

She takes a bite of her food, watching me while she chews. She swallows and takes a drink of water. Is she stalling? Hoping I’ll cave? I have no problem waiting for her to reply. I can be stubborn when I want to be. And right now, I want to know her answer. I want to know more about her. I want to know everything about her. I have always wanted to know anything she’s willing to tell me. And now we’re fake engaged, I have an excuse as to why.

“I enjoy rom-coms. The early two-thousands ones. I’m sure you’re not interested in them,” she says before putting the last of her dinner into her mouth.

I wipe my hands on a napkin. Doesn’t she know I’m a romantic at heart? Those movies are my guilty pleasure. One the guys don’t know about because I know I won’t hear the end of it.

“Come on,” I say, getting to my feet and walking into the living room. She trails behind me. I walk over to the TV stand and pull open one of the drawers. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t found this. Unless you did, and you’re being polite.”

“Weston,” Hadley gasps, peering over my shoulder at the drawer full of nineties and early two-thousands rom-coms. “You were holding out on me.” She puts her hands over her heart in mock outrage.

“I didn’t know you were an aficionado. And I couldn’t out myself. So, what do you want to watch? I’m sure I’ve got it here.”

“Oh, so many choices. How does one choose?” She scans the available titles while I watch her.

Is it fate that we both like the same kind of movies? I’ve never told any of the few other women I’ve dated about my preference for rom-coms. Couldn’t tell you why. But there’s something about Hadley that makes me want to bare my soul to her.

“How about How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days?”

“Classic,” I say, grabbing the DVD and handing it to her. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the couch?”

“I can help.”

I shake my head and point to the couch, which is currently covered in what appears to be every blanket and sweatshirt she owns, before I head into the kitchen to clean up and grab us drinks.

Ten minutes later, I take a seat next to where she’s wrapped in her fuzzy blanket, the other blankets and clothes piled on the floor in the corner. I bite my tongue to keep from asking her to put them away because she doesn’t feel good, and the last thing I want to do is be a nag. Instead, I flip the light off so I don’t have to see the mess and start the movie.

Halfway through, I peer over at her and frown at the sight. She’s twisted into a pretzel, lying down in a tiny space on the couch. I pick up the remote and hit pause.

“Are you comfortable like that?”

“Not really.”

Damn. Now I wish I had a bigger couch so she could spread out.

“I swear I’m not trying to put the moves on you, but I have a TV in my room. We can watch the rest of the movie there so you can stretch out on the bed … if you want.”

She sighs, and now I’m second-guessing my offer. Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it, but I want her to be comfortable, and she sure as hell doesn’t seem to be right now.

“Okay,” she says, sitting up.

I take the DVD out of the player, she grabs her blanket, and we head into my bedroom. I put the movie in while she gets situated on the bed. She keeps to one side and stays on top of the comforter, pulling her blanket over her. I take my spot on the other side and turn the movie back on.

When the credits roll, I realize she’s sound asleep. I reach over and turn on the bedside light, then shut off the TV. I should wake her and tell her to go to her own bed, right? But what happens if she’s like me, and once she wakes up, that’s it, she won’t fall back to sleep. I’d hate to be the reason she doesn’t sleep well.

With a shake of my head, I walk into my bathroom, closing the door behind me, and go about my nightly routine of taking my contacts out and brushing my teeth. I keep expecting to hear her moving around, waking up and realizing she isn’t in her bed. Leaving quietly. But that doesn’t happen.

I walk out of the bathroom and stare at her sleeping form, willing her to wake up so I don’t have to make the decision of what to do. On one hand, I want to wake her so she doesn’t get angry at me when she finds out I didn’t. Or embarrassed. Although there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. On the other hand, I don’t want to disturb her sleep. But what if she has a nightly routine she needs to do? Or medication she takes at night? Shit. What am I supposed to do? I pace at the end of the bed for a few seconds.

“Hadley.” I shake her gently.

“Mmmm.”

“Hadley Jane, wake up. You fell asleep.”