Masterpiece Theater

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I told myself as I watched Brian set the bag of food down and disappear to get forks. I shouldn't have gotten that close to him. I shouldn't have said anything.

"So what made you change your mind?" He asked as he handed me one on his way back through.

"Plans just got rearranged."

"Lucky me." He said with a smirk. I half-smiled back and took the carton of lo mein from him.

I looked around his living room again. It was modest and well decorated. A couple of art prints, a large rustic clock, a floor to ceiling bookshelf that looked built into the walls. A plasma screen hung on the wall, a wider shelf below it, housing a smaller movie collection than what I expected.

So far, things seemed normal. Except for almost letting him kiss me.

I chewed and swallowed some noodles, continuing the conversation. "What are your friends like? Are they as pushy as Ali?"

He shrugged. "They were giving me shit for not getting your number last night."

"Some kind of macho thing?"

"No, nothing like that. They just think it's time."

The admittance came as a surprise to both of us. To cover it, he shoved forkfuls of rice into his mouth and washed it down with beer. I reached for some chicken, wondering why I bothered to come over at all.

Halfway through eating, my message alert went off. Six times in a row. And then it rang. I pulled my phone out of my bag, set it to vibrate, and put it back.

"Do you need to get that?"

Probably. "No. It's fine. It can wait." Loud buzzing. I ignored the call and shut my phone completely off.

"It's totally fine if you need to make a call."

"What I need," I said with a deep sigh, "is something a little stronger. Help a lady out?"

"Sure. Come on." He held out his hand to me. I took it and followed him to the kitchen. He opened a door tucked into the wall, revealing a staircase downward.

I followed him without questioning why.

In the basement, more of his true style was revealed. A beat up sofa and love seat, an even bigger flat screen than the one upstairs. A full bar and kick ass stereo system. He also had a couple guitars on stands in the corner.

"What's your poison?" He asked, drumming his knuckles on the marble bar top. I slid onto a leather covered stool and took a cigarette from the pack he pulled out from under the counter.

"Tequila."
te
He poured, I lit it. "This where you and your buddies waste your time?"

"Pretty much. The whole room is soundproof. We have game nights and jam sessions down here."

"Impressive." I told him, and it was. I took my shot, holding my cigarette between my fingers. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sipped at it.

Brian followed after me as I wandered around, keeping his distance. I looked over his movie collection and his games, circling around to his rack of CDs and full bookshelf of vinyl records and cassette tapes.

"Got everything from A to Z, don't you?" I teased.

"Pretty much." He mumbled, pleased. He liked seeing me impressed.

When I turned to say something, he surprised me with a kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft and I found myself kissing him back. I threw my arms around his neck and opened my mouth to give him more.

We didn't stop and we wound up on the couch, horizontal.

He kept kissing me and I kept letting him, even kissing him back.

And then his phone went off in his pocket, vibrating against my legs. I stood up and backed away, moving back to the bar for another drink and my unfinished cigarette.

"Mich, no. I don't have it. No. Definitely not. Ask Valary. Yes, I'll look. Fine."

I tried not to listen to his conversation. It wasn't my business.

As I tipped back the shot glass, he came up behind me and nuzzled my neck, wrapping his arms around me.

Everything in me told me to pull away. I shouldn't have been kissing him. If I stayed, it would only escalate. But Ali had made a point.

It was time to move on. And it seemed like he was trying to do the same thing.

Still, I tensed up. He noticed and pulled away.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, lighting his own cigarette and finishing off his whiskey.

I said nothing. I didn't know what to say and I wasn't going to tell him it was okay when it wasn't. He was a big boy. He didn't need his feathers smoothed out.

"I'm gonna go clean up upstairs. You wanna pick out a movie?"

"Sure."

He nodded and left. I kicked myself in the butt, muttering, as I halfheartedly browsed his collection. He had everything.

I finally settled on something when he came back down.

"What'd you pick?"

"Kill Bill." I held the movie out to him.

"Good choice." He took it and popped it into the player.

When I made to sit on the couch, he stopped me and waved me aside. Confused, I watched, wondering what I did wrong, until he started pulling cushions off and pulled out a hideaway mattress.

"There's a popcorn machine and soda fountain by the stairs, if you want. Or you can fix another drink." He informed me as he began making the bed.

"Popcorn sounds good."

I wasn't sure what to think as I added oil and kernels to the kettle. On one hand, it was a bit presumptuous. On the other hand, maybe I was just being paranoid and he only wanted me to be comfortable while we watched the movie.

After all, I let him kiss me. When I pulled away, he let me and he didn't push it.

It was clear that, even if he wanted to sleep with me tonight, it was one hundred percent my call as to whether or not we actually did.

Maybe the whole nice guy routine wasn't just an act.

I brought the bowl of popcorn over and set it down, going back over to the bar to refill our drinks. When I came back over, he'd set up the ashtray on the coffee table and was sitting on the edge of the springy bed, smoking.

"Can I ask you something?" He muttered.

"Sure." I put the drinks down and sat next to him, pushing my hair away from my face.

"Was it okay, that I kissed you? I mean, it seemed like it was okay, but then my phone rang and then it seemed like-"

I put two fingers to his lips to quiet him, an amused smile on my face. I grabbed his hand and kissed the top of it.

"It was very much okay." I assured him.

He smiled. "Okay. Good. I'm glad."

The movie started. He finished his cigarette and sipped at his drink while I tossed back my shot and lit my own. More than content to sit at the edge of the bed with me, he kept his arm around me loosely and we watched.

Sometime later, we were horizontal again, his tongue down my throat, his hand up my shirt. I had his shirt off, my hands between us, on his chest. which was remarkably bare compared to his inked up arms.

"We should stop." I panted when we finally came up for air.

"Did I-"

I sat up, woozy from the sudden intake of oxygen, and gave a gentle shake of my head. "No. It's just...fast."

"Okay. Sure." He didn't bother hiding his disappointment. He lit a couple cigarettes and handed me one.

"Maybe it would just be better if I left. It's late."

"I'll walk you up." He muttered. He shut off the movie but otherwise left things the way they were and followed me up the stairs.

In the doorway, we lingered. I didn't really want to leave, despite my logical reasoning and inner protests, but I couldn't stay.

"I had a good time." I told him honestly.

"I'm glad." He smiled and leaned in for a kiss. I gave him one, resisting the urge to keep going, and losing.

"Do you want me to walk you to your car?" He finally asked a few minutes later, his lips against my neck.

"No. It's okay.”

"You really have to go?"

No. "It would just be better if I did."

His lips were on mine again.

I didn't leave for twenty more minutes, and had a serious hickey on the side of my neck as a memento.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I told myself as I drove away, flustered.