Research: Romance

road trip

Thursday morning, I picked Robin up from his house. My heart skips a beat, the minute I see him wave his hand at me. He walks slowly toward the car, pops open the backseat, and drops his bag and a few hangers with clothes on them inside.

When he takes the passenger seat, and closes the door, I bid him a bright, "Good morning!"

"Morning," He murmurs back in response and rests his head against the seat with a tired sigh. 

Sunglasses cover his eyes, but I know they are closed. Robin slouches in the seat like a sandbag, reviving my theory from the motel of his limbs being extremely heavy when he sleeps. I feel the urge to pick up his arm and shake it as a test, but one glimpse reminds me of what it was like to have that arm slung over me while I slept. Before I know it, I'm absorbed by the echoes of him curled around me and it occurs to me: I know exactly how heavy it is. I've felt it.  

That's enough to promptly kill my dreams and put me in my place again. I must have been an idiot to think all I wanted was to be friends. My gaze traces over him, still completely oblivious to my feelings, and I roll my eyes at myself. Come on, girl. Sober up, you've still got a job to do. 

My heart drops at repressing my feelings again. Like a petulant kid it flings itself to the floor, kicking and screaming, "I don't want to!" Meanwhile, my mind recognizes the infeasibility of those feelings being acted on. Robin and I reconciled as friends and friends are what we will stay unless I decide to act selfishly and ruin everything. Besides, far more complications lie between us other than the potential of unrequited feelings. 

I still hadn't told him about what happened with the Crawley's at the studio, there were burdens from Maizy and the media should we get involved, and the last thing this group needed was more relationship drama. We had enough on our plates with Desi and Henry not communicating... adding a secret tryst on top of that was just asking for strife. 

Then. Quit. Pining. I exhaled, dragging that yearning feeling from the bottom of my lungs and forcing it out of my mouth yet again. But it was no use...a secret, invincible, hope reinflates me again and I'm back where I started.

"Here," Resisting my feelings takes a backseat as I reach toward the drink holders. I offered him the cup of gas station coffee I made just in case, "I thought you might need this. Black, no sugar, right?"

He moves his head enough to see what I'm holding, then removes his sunglasses to reveal sleepy, but surprised eyes. Reaching to take the cup, Robin sweeps his gaze over to me as our fingers brush.  His expression becomes bewildered, bottomless, and absolutely absorbed by whatever he's thinking. It's the same look he had from the amusement park. 

All my resistance and rationalizations fall futile in an instant, and the voice in my head rings: Robin's going to kiss me over a cup of coffee.

Just as I think it, his lips part, and he shifts forward. Every muscle in my body strains to push me toward him. To give in, and for once, not question my intuition. That's until Robin stops, drops his eyes to the lid of the cup, and clears his throat, "Uh, thanks."

I swallow hard, gradually retreating to my seat. Staring hard at the road, I nod once before placing the car in gear and whispering, "Yep." 

It doesn't take long before we are cruising on the highway toward my parents' house. I let myself play with the music until I find a playlist that suits the tone. Eventually, Robin drifts off in the passenger seat again, holding the cup of coffee in his lap the whole time.

I won't survive this for another hour, let alone the weekend. 

***

We parked the car at the bottom of the street and began walking up toward the house. It was a lovely day, with white clouds and blue streaks in the sky. Birds were chirping and there were dogs barking in the distance. Smells of cooking filled the street from top to bottom, making my stomach grumble with anticipation.