I sent the email and went back to work on my game.  It was running on my phone and I took to the controls to see what needed tweaking.  It was a mess.  I spent some time earlier that day working on getting the character navigation working, but that was hardly a monumental achievement.  I could move my stand-in sprite back and forth, make it jump, and the physics engine was also working properly—slowing down movement in areas, causing it to slide on certain surfaces, changes in gravity affected the height and duration of jumps and so forth—but there was still a lot of work to do.  Triggers weren’t working, so progression toward the end of the level was rendered impossible.  That was something that needed fixing.

I sighed as I sat back in my chair and stared up at the ceiling—hoping, maybe, that an epiphany would be up there.  Nothing but ceiling tiles, unfortunately.  I closed my eyes for a moment to think.

She had a hand on my chest and a glass of wine in the other.  I opened my eyes and looked at her; she looked up at me with those beautiful light brown eyes.

Night 4—Friday:

A movie was playing in the background on the television and two empty plates stacked on top of each other were resting on my coffee table.  Alice sat beside me—her legs propped up on the couch, head on my shoulder, right arm wrapped around my left and holding a glass of wine.  She was warm.  I could feel her heart beating on my arm as she lay there at my side.  It was comforting.  She looked back at the television; I watched her for a few moments longer.

In my own right hand, I held a glass of wine—merlot.  It was one of my favorite reds and my preferred wine for a steak dinner.  I took a sip.

Alice’s wine exchanged hands as she sat up to take a sip of her own.  When she lowered the glass from her lips, she placed the wine back in her right hand, shifted her body even closer to mine, and rested her head on my shoulder.  It couldn’t have been comfortable, my bony shoulder against her cheek like that, but she didn’t seem to care; she was content—happy even, judging by the expression on her face.  She placed her left hand on my chest again.  Each time my chest elevated with each inhale, she closed her eyes.

Still resting on my arm, I could feel her heart beating.  Each breath kept her eyes closed a second longer—each breath had her heart beating faster.  She rubbed her cheek into my shoulder, I could hear her breathing heavier.  I relaxed my neck from holding my head in its upright position and pressed my cheek against hers.  Her rhythmically sensual heavy breathing continued.  I turned toward her and set my wine down on the table.  I reached for hers as I wrapped my other arm around her.  When I set her glass down on the table, we held each other locked in a passionate, hormone-driven embrace and stared at each other for what seemed like hours before we kissed.

She was soft, warm.  Her lips were as comforting as they were arousing.  It had been years since I had been with a woman, but kissing Alice may as well have been my first.  I was flooded with a thousand sensations of physical and emotional desires.  She was beautiful, and she was with me.  She was smart, and she was with me.  She was funny, and she was with me.  All of the morning coffee conversations we’ve had at work and the playful office banters… she exemplified everything I could possibly want in a woman.  She was the model of perfection and she actually wanted to be there with me.  This is a woman I could love, I thought.

I pulled back.  She sat there frozen in my arms.  Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted—beckoning me to return.  But something felt wrong.  I didn’t know how I got there on the couch with her.  It was a wonderful experience, but something was missing.  She opened her eyes and stared at me.

There was a long pause as I stumbled over thoughts trying to find words to say.  I lacked eloquence, so what came out was rather blunt and direct, “I like you, Alice.  A lot.”

She smiled at my crude sentiment, “I like you too, Tom.”

She must have seen something written on my face because after sitting there holding each other in silence for several minutes longer, she just closed the embrace, rested her head on my shoulder, and stated, “A lot.”

She held me tightly, rubbing my back as I rested my cheek atop her head.  “I’m glad you came over.”

“I’m glad you fed me,” she joked.

We turned back to the television; the movie was still playing in the background and neither of us knew what was really going on with the plot.  I grabbed our glasses of wine from the table and handed Alice hers.  I sat back on the couch; Alice grabbed my arm and slung it around her shoulders.  I looked over at her, but she kept her gaze straight forward—I could see a smirk forming in the corner of her mouth.

When the movie finished, we sat there in silence as the credits rolled.  I didn’t want her to go, and she didn’t want to leave.  Not a word was spoken as the credits scrolled up the screen.  When the film had reached its ultimate end, she sighed as she sat up, pushing herself off me, and set her glass on the table.

“I should really get going,” she said as she looked back at me.

I looked up at the clock, it read “12:17.”

“It is pretty late,” I said.  “Let me walk you to your car.”

We stood up and walked to the door.  As I opened the door of my house for her, she reached for my hand.  I motioned with my head toward the exit, “After you.”

She led me to her car, which was parked on the street in front of my house.  I opened her car door and turned to her.  “I had a great time tonight,” I said as I held her door open.  “We should make a habit of this whole getting together thing.”

“We should.”  She paused, “You know… I have some plans this Sunday that I’d love to get out of.  You should come over!  I’ll return the favor and cook for you.”

“I’d like that.”

“So it’s a date, then?”

“Absolutely.”

We hugged one last time and kissed each other goodbye.  She sat down in the driver’s seat and I closed the door for her.  As she started the car, she shot me another smile.  The car roared to life and she drove off.

When she was out of sight, I approached my door and opened it.  Matt was standing on the other side and he looked pale and shocked to see me.  I gave him a nod and made my way to the kitchen—I desperately needed my morning coffee.

To be continued…

Freefall is the creative property of Andrew T.S. Bedgood and is protected by US Copyright law.  Any use of this creative work without permission is prohibited.