Free The Force of Gravity by Kelly Stevenson

two Wedges.
    We both turn our attention to the movie, but I can’t see anything on the screen. All I see is his profile through my peripheral view. And is it my imagination, or is he watching me, too?
    Dream on, Kaley.
    Minutes tick by, and I try to pay attention to the movie, but it’s impossible. This is way worse than math class—we are literally inches apart in a dark room. How am I expected to focus? My phone vibrates again, but I ignore it. I shift in my seat, crossing my legs toward him and try to steady my breathing. But when I carefully glance his way, I notice him gazing at my legs.
    That sure as hell isn’t going to help my breathing.
    Fiery heat seeps through places in my body that no one has ever touched. How is it possible he can touch me in a way I’ve never felt before—and with only his eyes? I imagine what his fingers are capable of . . . his tongue.
    Our eyes lock and he offers me more Wedges. I shake my head, but neither of us break our stare. There’s no longer a twinkle in his eye—no hint of a smile. His eyes travel down my neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their path. They slide down my shoulder. Then arm.
    I shiver.
    “Are you cold?” he whispers, lifting his eyes back to mine.
    “Hm?”
    He grabs his jacket from behind him and hands it to me. “I always bring a jacket just in case. These theaters can be freezing. Especially in a dress like that, I imagine.” He looks embarrassed after mentioning my dress and turns his attention back to the screen.
    My pulse races through my veins as I drape the jacket over my lap and pull it up to my chest like a blanket. The intoxicating scent invades my senses, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I shoot my eyes back open to see if he noticed my reaction. He’s still focused on the movie screen—I can only hope he didn’t see. I steal a glance at the label on his jacket: Armani. I’ve never been the type of girl who valued designer labels, so why does seeing this turn me on even more? I still can’t figure out how he can afford it, but it doesn’t matter. My mind wanders to what label is on his underwear, and I’m thankful the room is dark enough to hide my blushing cheeks. I sink into the seat and snuggle into his jacket as we watch the rest of the movie in silence.
    The film ends in what feels like two minutes instead of two hours, and neither of us move while the movie credits roll up the screen. I dread giving him back his jacket—I want it around my body all night since it is the closest I will ever get to the real thing. Stealing one more whiff before I stand up, I regretfully hand it back to him. He’s still seated as he takes it from me, and his eyes wander down my body causing me to tremble once more.
    “Are you sure you still don’t need it? You’re shivering.”
    I let out a nervous laugh. “No, I’m fine.” If only he knew how hot I felt.
    He slings his jacket over his arm and rises. We exit the theater together, talking briefly about the movie, even though I barely watched a single frame.
    We step outside into the darkness, and the desert warmth envelops me once again. I’ll have no excuses if I shiver now, so I try to keep my body relaxed. The lines of palm trees are decorated in white twinkle lights, and I imagine what it would be like to be on a date with him. I imagine my hand wrapped safely inside of his as we stroll through the crowd . . . I imagine his lips on mine as he kisses me goodnight. Running my tongue over my lips, I taste the faint watermelon flavor of the candy we shared and wonder if his lips taste the same right now.
    The blond hobbit yanks me out of my daydream when I feel his stare as we pass by the box office. His quick observation of my dress again is not lost on me—I definitely feel nothing whatsoever as he gawks at my body. His eyes widen when he notices Mr. Slate walking next to me, and I remember how I lied about meeting my date here. Oops! Oh well, it’s not like I know the