Blessings Ch. 03

"What's the matter with your leg?" she asked, once he had taken his seat across from her.

"Oh, I hurt my knee at the gym," he said.

She didn't like to hear that. In high school he had had two knee surgeries to repair football injuries. "Since when do you go to the gym?"

He explained that Cassie had been dragging him to her gym ever since they'd gotten back together. "She wants me to lose some of the flab." He pinched his belly through his sweater.

She wanted to laugh; instead, she stabbed at a piece of chicken with her disposable fork. The plastic tines had trouble piercing the crispy, gooey coating. Kevin might not have been buff, but he was far from flabby. "Have you seen the doctor?"

He slurped a noodle. "It's not serious. It's just a little sore. I would know if it was serious." He sipped his diet soda.

When he set the soda down she reached across the table and touched his hand. "Stay away from the gym for a couple of weeks," she said, "please." The last thing she wanted was to see him go through another operation and all of that grueling physical therapy. He touched her hand and nodded. His eyes were not on hers. They were shyly alternating between his half-eaten dinner and her chest. She didn't mind him looking. She had worn the snug sweater for him. "See a doctor if it's not better after Christmas." He mumbled that he would through a mouthful of noodles.

"Have you picked out any classes?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, a few." She reached into her purse and retrieved the rolled up college spring course catalog and the ink pen she had stuffed in there. She opened the book to the Associates degree program. "I was thinking about English 101, and Biology." They were both required credits. She figured eight hours of class was a good way to start. She could always add more in the fall.

He scooted his chair to the side of the table, closer to her. Their legs touched under the table. "Those are definitely good choices," he said. His approval made her heart flutter. "For English, definitely take the re-entry course. It's one extra credit hour, so that's good, but you also learn a ton about critical thinking, note taking, and time management. Okay, now for Biology avoid Mr. Vagar. He's the funniest, friendliest guy you'd ever meet, but he's from Iceland, and no one can understand a word he says." He flipped through the catalog. He pointed at a class. "Take Ms. Henderson for Biology. She's all about the lab work, no homework and no tests." Amanda took the pen and circled the class he suggested.

She rested her chin on her fist and watched him flip through the book. He was so much older than her, five years. Physically, she couldn't really see it. He had a young face, with boyish good looks. His age showed in experience. He had braved these same scholastic waters before she ever thought of leaving the dock.

His eyes were blue, serenely so, and deep set. He hardly ever opened them all the way; what was the word Mom used to describe them? Sleepy. He opened them wide when he was excited, though. He had them open now as he explained what his first semester had been like. He had taken twelve hours of classes, the same as a full-time student, not a good idea for a full-time worker. After the first hectic week he had dropped every class but one. She was suddenly nervous about her eight—no, make it nine hours of class. Would she have enough time to do all of the work? He sensed her apprehension and assured her that she would do fine. She only worked four days a week at the veterinarian. She'd have plenty of time.

Time? She looked at her watch and frowned. It was getting late. The movie had probably already started. She wolfed down the rest of her dinner, as he did the same. She stuffed the catalogue in her purse, along with the two fortune cookies.

She was weighted down by shopping bags, and Kevin moved slowly with his sore knee. But they made it to the theater relatively quick. Fortunately, Kevin had already bought the tickets, so they avoided the line at the box office. The viewing public must have had their fill of galactic strife, because even after they had taken bathroom breaks and stopped for candy, the theater was practically empty. There was a family in the third row, a balding father, chubby mother, and two rambunctious little boys, but no one else. Kevin took her by the hand, pulling her up the steps to the back row.

She put her bags on one seat, and he put his bags on another. They sat between. The previews had just ended, and the 20th Century Fox logo flashed across the screen. The title credits rolled, and were followed by the long-awaited first appearance of the main character, the man Kevin had dubbed Diarrhea Face. Amanda snuggled into his side and sighed contentedly. Up your bony butt Cassie, I get him for three more hours, she thought. His right arm draped over her shoulder; his left hand rested on her thigh. She looked at him inquisitively. He apologized and broke their contact. She sighed and leaned back in the seat, frustrated.

She opened her purse and grabbed the box of Red Hots she had bought at the snack counter while Kevin was in the restroom. He heard the rattle of the candy box and held out his palm without looking. She poured several of the red, chewy candies into his hand. He promptly dumped them into his mouth. Kevin's back straightened, and his mouth opened wide. He slowly chewed and swallowed, all the while stomping his uninjured leg on the hard floor. He must have thought she had bought the usual Milk Duds or jelly beans. She laughed as he wiped the moisture from his eyes and nose.

"Oh, you think that's funny, little girl?" he asked, between coughs. He grabbed the box of candy from her lap with one hand and caught her chin with the other. He forced her head back against the headrest. She giggled through clenched teeth. He tilted the box, ready to dump the contents in her mouth.

Both of his hands were occupied; she saw her chance to counterattack. Her fingernails found his ribcage. Even through the thick navy sweater her strategy proved effective. He was ticklish, incredibly ticklish, and she knew it. He begged her to stop. The candy box fell from his grip and landed on the seat between his legs. She smothered her face with his chest to stifle her laughter. He called truce, and she ceased the offensive. She took the box of candy from between his legs. The box was warmer than it had been a moment ago.

He watched her pitch a handful of candy into her mouth. Then he watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest, then her mouth. She loved it when he looked at her. "What's the matter, Big Brother, don't like hot candy?"

He shifted his long legs a bit, angling his body towards her. "I was kind of in the mood for something sweet," he said.

"Oh," she said, just before gaining the gumption to kiss him. Amanda closed her eyes. His lips were warm and cinnamony; hers probably were too. She opened her lips at the first probing of his tongue. She felt his fingers on her sweater, near the zipper. He grabbed the little brass zipper and tugged lightly. The zipper lowered slowly. He was no longer kissing her. He was watching his hands, watching the zipper lower, watching the yellow sweater part.

He gasped when he saw her full breasts encased in only a t-shirt and a bra. He moved to touch her, but his hands stopped short. She groaned, frustrated by his hesitation. "Mandy, we can't," he said. She could see his hands trembling before him, could see the growing bulge in his jeans. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, but he was too stubborn.

"We can," she said. She got to her knees and straddled his lap, recreating their position on the couch so many weeks ago. She pressed her chest to him, mashing her breasts to his body. The contact stimulated her already hard nipples. She wished she had forgone the bra. "Kevin," she said, reveling in his devouring look, "I think I'm in love with you."

Her words caused a sharp intake of breath. She didn't know if it had come from him or her. She was so shocked at the admission. His hands found her legs and rested behind her knees. Slowly, they climbed upwards, grazing her thighs, resting on her butt. He squeezed her, and they both groaned. She lowered the zipper on his sweater. He had a t-shirt on under it. She kissed the base of his neck, kissed his Adam's apple, kissed his chin. Despite his firm grip on her butt, he squirmed to avoid her kisses. "Mandy, stop it!" he said, raising his voice.

Her lower lip extended in a pout. "You don't want me?" It was a ridiculous question. The erection she ground her crotch on was proof that he wanted her.

He avoided her gaze, concentrating instead on the shopping bags in the seat next to him. She traced little heart symbols on his chest and blew into his ear as he dug through one of the bags. He pulled out a smaller bag, a black bag unadorned with corporate logos. He turned the small bag over and a little velvet box slid out.

Amanda's hopes died in that instant. The sting of tears hazed her vision. She oozed off of his lap, depositing herself in her own seat.

"I'm going to ask Cassie to marry me." He confirmed what she had already guessed. "It's going to be a Christmas surprise."

It was a surprise to Amanda. She felt so incredibly stupid. He fumbled with the velvet box, trying to open it. She didn't want to see the ring. She could not have handled it. With her body trembling and her head spinning, she ran out of the theater. She forgot about the movie, forgot about her shopping bags. She forgot about everything except for that little velvet box and the stupid confession she had made to Kevin: "I think I'm in love with you."

To be concluded...