“We’re running low on wine,” she said, still bent over, checking the refrigerator. “Only two bottles left,” she picked them both up, uncorked them, and brought them over to the couch.
Bob took one gladly, had a long sip; however, the alcohol did not aid with his raging erection. Laura sat crosslegged next to him, and drank; a few drops spilled down from her mouth on her white t-shirt, and Bob swallowed down hard, suddenly sweating.
“You know,” she said after a few minutes of silent drinking, stumbling slightly on her words, “I sometimes wish I wasn’t garnering as much attention as I do.”
“Right…” he chuckled dryly, had a good long hit of wine. “That’s simply because you don’t know otherwise, Laura. You would hate it, trust me, if you had to spend an entire night sitting all alone in a night club, desperately waiting for someone to give you the time of the day.
“You can get drunk in any bar, sometimes without even having to pay for a single drink.”
“Sure,” she frowned, “but, that’s only because guys come running to me, due to my looks. No one really cares about what’s inside of me, you know? They don’t bother ask me about my hobbies, my interests… anything, actually. They just fire up jokes, try to impress me with their work, or how well-read they are, or whatever else they’ve got going for themselves… sometimes, it’s just about lifting their shirt to impress me with their abs, because that’s all they’ve got going.
“All but you, Bob,” she reached tenderly for his hand, took it into hers. “You’ve always cared about me; about my interests, what I’m doing with my life, my dreams, even my flaws.”
“You’ve got no flaws, Laura,” he whispered, horrified by the sweatiness of his palm and thrilled over the softness of her skin.
She burst into warm, genuine laughter, then leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek; a long, warm, wet kiss that nearly caused Bob’s heart to explode.
“That’s what I’ve always loved about you,” she suddenly said, her head resting on his rigid shoulder, “how you can always make me laugh and feel good about myself.”
He didn’t speak; no words could have exited his mouth at that moment, even if there had been words he wished to utter. He sat straight up, staring dead ahead at Laura’s bookcase, with countless of thoughts crossing his mind, thousands of emotions and potential actions tormenting his psyche, but, there was nothing he actually could do.
“Are you okay?” Laura lifted her head. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m alright, yes, it’s…” he cleared his throat, unable to face her. “I’m just a little cold, that’s all.”
“You’re joking, right?” She giggled. “It’s 30 degrees C outside! I’m sweating buckets here and I wear almost nothing!”
“Yeah,” he sighed heavily. “I’m okay, though, don’t worry,” he continued heavily.
“What’s got you so fascinated over here?” She jumped off the couch and stood in front of him. “You keep staring at the books, as if you expect them to talk to you!”
“I’m just going through the titles, that’s all…” he apologized.
“Haven’t you seen them before? You’ve been here so many times!”