The Line I Shouldn't Cross

 "Liya said to wait inside. She’s running ten minutes late," I said. My voice sounded small and shaky, much tighter than I wanted it to be.

I sat right on the edge of the cheap fabric couch. My laptop was open right on my knees. The screen glowed with the blank presentation slides we were supposed to finish writing together tonight.

Leo did not answer me at all. He did not move away either. Instead, he dropped his weight down onto the cushion right next to me. The old couch dipped low, tilting me slightly toward him. He smelled like cold winter air, sharp soap, and the faint, bitter smell of tobacco. He was not wearing his usual leather jacket tonight. He just had on a plain black t-shirt that made his chest look wide in the dim light of the living room.

"She’s always late," Leo said. His voice was a low rumble. It was way too close to my ear. "But you’re early, Ivy. As always."

"It is just professional," I muttered. I stared hard at the bright screen. My fingers hovered over the plastic keyboard, completely frozen. I wanted to move to the other side of the couch so bad. But if I did that, it would show him that he was getting to me. On campus, Leo made a big game out of ignoring me. Or he would drop some mean, sarcastic comment whenever I walked past him and his loud friends. Tonight, his usual smug smile was totally gone. He looked focused. Way too focused.

He leaned in closer to me. His arm practically brushed against my shoulder. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. My hand started to shake. The plastic pen I was holding rattled against the edge of my paper notebook. I gripped the pen tighter, praying that he would not notice how nervous I was.

"Let’s see what you’ve got written down," he whispered.

He reached right past me. His warm arm scraped against mine. His skin felt like a heater compared to the chill in the room. Before I could pull away, he snatched the notebook right out of my lap.

"Hey! Give that back," I said.

I reached out to grab it, but he just lifted it high up out of my reach. His dark eyes scanned my messy handwriting on the page.

"The Economic Impact of Modern Trade Routes," Leo read out loud.

A mocking little laugh slipped from his lips. He shook his head slowly, looking down at me with pity.

"Ivy, this is so painful. It is totally boring."

"It is a solid topic for a business presentation," I snapped back. My face felt hot, burning red. "Liya and already agreed on it. It is safe. It is fully researched. And it will get us an A in the class."

"It will get you a nap," Leo shot back.

He set my notebook right down on his own thigh and clicked my pen over and over again.

"Your professor will be asleep by slide three. You need something that actually makes people sit up and pay attention. Something real."

"And you are an expert on academic presentations now?"

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, trying to block out how close he was sitting. He was leaning so far forward that if I turned my head just a little bit too fast, our noses would touch.

"I am an expert on what people actually care about," he said softly.

He did not look at the laptop screen anymore. He looked right into my eyes. His eyes were dark, reflecting the pale glow of the computer. He flashed a quick, sharp smile. His teeth looked very bright against the shadows of the room.

"Watch."

He leaned completely over my shoulder now. His weight pressed against my back. I held my breath inside my chest. I was terrified to move an inch. I was terrified of how loud my heart was thumping against my ribs.

He brought the pen down to the paper page. He crossed out my nice title with three heavy ink lines.

Right below it, in bold, hard strokes, he wrote: The Psychology of Forbidden Attraction.

I stared at the new words on the paper.

"Are you crazy? I can’t present that topic with your sister."

"Why not?" Leo asked.

He did not pull back. He slowly turned the plastic pen over and over in his fingers. Then, he held it out toward me. But he did not just drop it into my open hand. He waited until my fingers wrapped around the plastic barrel. And then, he let his thumb linger there. He pressed firmly against my knuckles. His skin felt like fire against mine.

"Are you afraid of a little research, Ivy?"

"It’s not professional, Leo," I whispered. My throat felt so dry I could barely swallow.

I tried to pull my hand away from his touch. But his grip stayed firm for one extra second. It was a slow, deliberate delay that made my stomach flip upside down.

"It’s the only thing worth talking about," he murmured.

He leaned down even lower. His lips moved right past my cheek, stopping mere millimeters away from my earlobe. His hot breath sent shivers across my skin.

"Tell me, Ivy. What do you think makes people want what they can't have?"

My heart practically stopped beating entirely. I could not breathe. I could not think. I could not look away from the dark fabric of his t-shirt. He tilted his head slightly. His lips grazed the soft edge of my ear. He was about to press even closer.

Then…..

The heavy sound of the front door lock turning echoed loudly through the quiet, empty house.