Multi-tasking nets one groovy scene

Or at least as far as I’m concerned.  I’m watching a movie, texting, AND writing.  The scene needs polish, and granted it’s a measly 1500 words, but this was a scene I was struggling with.  I’ve got the basics, the bones.  When the rewrites happen, it’ll only get better.

But anyway, here’s a snippet:

She wakes up disoriented in her own bed.  Attila takes up her usual chunk of real estate, practically the entire bottom half of the king sized bed.  Hun lies curled in a huge purring ball not far from her head.  She’s not sure what woke her up, until she hears the foot step in the hallway.  Whoever it is, they’re trying to be quiet but it’s too late.  If she was thinking clearly she’d have noticed the animals were sound asleep thereby letting her know there was no threat but she isn’t paying attention.  Still so disoriented from the earlier crying. She hates crying more than she hates gagging.  Another crazy, unproductive bodily function she thought she had pretty much gotten rid of.  Then Mike.  Damn him.  Damn him to hell for bringing her face-to-face with emotions and feelings.  She wants to hate him.  But remembering his arms around her, the rocking surety of his embrace.  She shivers then remembers why she woke up and grabs her gun from the night stand.  Without waking the animals, again an indication that she could stand down, they are way too relaxed, she creeps to the door of her bedroom.  The footsteps stopped right outside her door.  She flings the door open, gun rising to chest level on an average perp.  For Mike, the barrel comes to rest just higher than his belly button.  He freezes, she freezes.

            “Whoa there missy.  Want to put that thing down?”

            “Oh my God Mike.  I’m so sorry.  I could have killed you.”

            “No, you couldn’t.  Figured you’d still be a bit on edge so I took all the bullets out of the guns around the house.”

            As soon as he says it, she feels the weight difference, then some modicum of embarrassment.  She should have noticed right away.  Again she thinks, “Damn him for paying so close attention to me, for knowing me so well.”

            “Anyway, I heard your breathing change, I knew you were awake. You didn’t have another nightmare did you?”

            “No, no nightmares.  Think I’m all nightmared out.”

            “Hungry?”

            “What time is it?”

            “Almost three o’clock in the morning.”

            “Egad.”

            “Indeed.”

            She walks back into her bedroom to put the gun on the nightstand.  He stays at the door, not wanting to intrude. The moon shines through the window, the trees beyond her back yard throw crazy shadows around the walls.  He enjoys the glint of moonlight on her skin.  What little of it is showing outside the tee-shirt and jeans.   He’d put her in the bed just as she’d passed out on the couch with the exception of removing her shoes and socks.

            “Mike.”

            “Yes.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “For what?”

            “For my behavior, for the crying.  I don’t usually uh, break down like that.”

            “I know.”

            “Look, let’s just chalk it up to nerves and forget it, okay?”

            “Yeah, about that. I don’t know if I can do that.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, I love you Caitlyn. I can’t just forget that.  I don’t want to.”

            “Oh Mike.  Seriously, no good is going to come from that.  None.”

            “A lot of good could from it if you’d let it.”

            She stands in shadow, he can’t see her face.  He doesn’t need to though.  He can picture all too clearly the fear in her eyes.  He thinks she’d much rather be facing her own death rather than allow herself to trust his love for her.

            “Look, you were right earlier.  I’m not so sure I could handle it if, I mean, when you get back to not needing me like this.  When you get back to being okay being alone, but I’d like to believe I could handle it.  That we’d find a way to both be strong and independent, together.” 

The ring is in his pants pocket.  It was his grandmother’s, then his mother’s, and now he wants it to be Caitlyn’s.  He knows not to approach with a traditional proposal so he just walks into the shadow with her, takes her hand and slides the ring on her left ring finger.

            “I love you.”  He brings her hand up to his lips, kisses the knuckles sweetly.  He looks up to catch her eyes.  They’re barely visible, but his heart sees the width of her feelings for him barely contained, but held back none-the-less.  He leans in, she raises her head, their lips meet.  It is a chaste kiss but intimate and full of passionate promise. He leaves it at that.

            She is still in the same position when she hears the front door close and his code in the keypad engaging the cyber lock.

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