Date Me, Bryson Keller(29)

“Well, I’m always willing to listen if you ever need that.” I meet his gaze. “Even after we break up.”

The last two words hang between us. The inevitable end to our relationship flashes before my eyes. I need to remember that this will all be over soon. I can’t get too comfortable, too used to having Bryson Keller in my life.

    We’re staring at each other.

“Same,” Bryson says.

He clears his throat and looks away first. He moves over to his bed. It doesn’t take long for Bryson to find the movie online. He grabs his laptop and places it on the floor. We both take a seat with our backs against his bed. Bryson’s leg taps into me and I try to ignore the warmth of it.

He stands. “I’ll be right back,” he says.

“Okay.”

While he’s gone, I tell myself that this is just for school. This is not a date. Watching a movie with my boyfriend has been a fantasy of mine. It may seem small and inconsequential, but it’s something I’ve never gotten to experience.

Bryson returns with his arms filled with chips, candy, and recently popped microwave popcorn.

“Wow, that’s a lot.”

Bryson smiles. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a bit of everything.”

“I’m sure you treat all your girlfriends this well.”

He places the snacks down. “Actually, I hardly ever saw any of them outside of school.” He looks at me. “You’re the first.”

“Well, it’s only for school.”

“Right.” It’s one word that I know I will spend countless hours trying to decipher.

He grabs a handful of popcorn and throws it into his mouth before sitting cross-legged and pressing play. The movie starts, and I prepare to watch a Leonardo DiCaprio movie in its entirety. Not just bits and pieces. And for the first time in my life I watch a movie with my boyfriend—even if he is just pretend.

    “I think we should do this scene between Benvolio and Romeo,” Bryson says.

I watch the scene and nod. It’s short and has just enough lines for me to be able to manage.

“I’ll hunt for the script and send it over to you tonight,” Bryson says. He hits pause and heads for his desk. “What’s your email address?”

“My name at Gmail dot com.”

Bryson jots it down before sitting next to me. He’s closer than before. To distract myself, I point to the screen and ask, “Who do you want to be?”

“Maybe Benvolio? He has more lines. And Romeo in this scene can be seen as quiet and shy, which might make you more comfortable.”

I nod. “Maybe you should look into studying directing.”

“I should hire you as my college advisor,” Bryson teases.

As we watch more of the movie, my attention is split. I’m aware of every move that Bryson makes next to me. He adjusts his position, and I hold my breath as more of his leg touches mine. Bryson’s not looking at me, though. He’s still watching the movie. My heart hammers in my chest. When Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes are in the pool and are about to kiss, I reach for the popcorn. Bryson does the same, and our hands end up brushing. For the second time I stop breathing. A smile dances at his lips as he eats a handful of popcorn.

    I watch him chew, my eyes never leaving his lips. I turn my attention back to the movie. I force myself not to look anywhere but at the screen.

I’m finally focused on the movie when I feel a sudden weight on my shoulder. Startled, I turn to find Bryson’s head there. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring slightly. I watch the rise and fall of his chest.

He nuzzles closer to me, his head finding the perfect spot to rest. While he sleeps, Bryson’s totally oblivious to the effect that he’s having on me.

I watch the rest of the movie trying to stay still with Bryson tucked against me. When the credits start to play, I study his profile. I bring my hand up but pause. I let it hover there.

Maybe in another life I’d be brave enough to do it. Bryson looks so peaceful, which is the exact opposite of how I’m feeling right now. It’s only Tuesday. Will I be able to survive this unscathed until Friday? I don’t know, but I need to remind myself that this is not real, and it can never be…right?

But watching him sleep, I’m grateful that I have three more days left with him. Bryson’s eyes open. We stare at each other. My panic multiplies. I jerk my hand back, but Bryson reaches out to catch it. Our eyes haven’t left each other. His swirl with questions. I’m about to apologize when Bryson’s face breaks into a smile.

“Let’s go.”

“Go?” Bryson stands and helps me to my feet. He lets go of my hand, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed.

    “It’s almost seven.” Bryson points at the large clock above his desk.

I follow him down the stairs to find a dark and empty house. “Your mom must be working late.”

“Yeah. She does when she has a new client.” Bryson shrugs. “I’m used to it now.”

We stop in the foyer to put on our shoes. I bend to pull them on, and Bryson does the same. I have a habit of not untying my laces. The left foot goes in with ease, but the right one puts up a fight. I stumble and Bryson reaches out to catch me. I’m the first to react. I clear my throat and create space between us.