Requiem for a Soldier (Requiem #1)

Chapter 37: Proximity

September 26

Ana

I creep out of the bedroom quietly. Ryan's still asleep, but I had a dream about waffles last night and I have the power to make those dreams come true. I open the cabinet and reach for the waffle iron up on the top shelf. Ryan must have been the one to put it away last, because it's just barely out of my reach. I stand up on tippy-toes, my fingers grasping for the handle on the end. My finger brushes it. So close! I close my eyes in concentration. 

Suddenly I intuitively know that someone is standing right behind me. I'm not sure exactly how I know that. Maybe I felt his body heat in the close proximity, or I felt the soft stirring of his breath on my cheek, or perhaps I heard him moving behind me. All I know is, Ryan is standing very, very close to me now.

I open my eyes and see his hand brush mine as he reaches for the waffle iron, easily grabbing it and bringing it down for me. A sense of deja-vu settles over me, like somehow this situation is familiar. Or maybe that it will become familiar. I feel goosebumps break out across my skin, spreading down my arm. 

I turn and pull my arm back, trying to hide my reaction to his touch. His face is so close to mine and he's looking into my eyes. Those brilliant, sky blue eyes regard me silently. Not even glancing at his scars can distract me from the mushy feeling in my brain. I look up to his hair and the feeling increases exponentially.

He obviously just woke up and his hair is a mess, somehow managing to look like it was intentionally and artfully disheveled. It's absolutely adorable. My fingers itch to run my hand through his hair, though I doubt he'd appreciate that. He looks ridiculous and incredibly attractive at the same time. It's simply not fair.

I laugh, grateful the sound that came out of me is a normal human noise rather than a high-pitched squeak. His eyebrows lower and he takes a step back.

"Just wake up?" I ask. 

He nods and hands me the waffle iron. 

"Thanks," I tell him. "You might consider buying a step ladder."

He shrugs and goes into the bathroom. The shower turns on a few seconds later. For a brief moment, I think about Ryan shirtless with dripping wet hair. 

I open my eyes wide and give my head a shake. "Not a good idea, not a good idea," I say aloud to myself. Thinking about my roommate in the shower is definitely not a good idea. Especially if I want to be able to function around him normally. But even that's becoming difficult.

I set to making waffles. By the time Ryan is back out, I've got two ready for consumption. He moves around me in the kitchen, getting out the plates and silverware. This is a ritual we've done many times before, but each time he walks past, I remember the feeling of his hand brushing mine and the knowledge that if I faked a stumble backwards, I'd be caught in his arms. I want to turn around now and catch his attention so I can stare into those blue eyes again.

 And then suddenly, I realize exactly what that scene with the waffle iron looked like and why it felt like something I'd seen before. 

"Farm boy," I call in a terrible impression of a British accent. "Fetch me that pitcher." 

He just stares at me with the greatest look of absolute confusion I've ever seen on him. "What?"

"No," I gasp, my mouth falling open as I stare back at him. "Don't tell me you've never seen The Princess Bride."

He shrugs.

I cover my face with my flour-dusted hands and emit a pained little screech. "How can you have lived for this long without seeing one of the greatest movies of all time?!"