He sat across the couch from her, Broken Social Scene’s Feel Good Lost album playing quietly in the background, as she typed away on her computer, and whenever the clicking paused he knew she was taking a moment to look at him. He knew, but didn’t try to catch her; he didn’t want to. He wondered if she noticed that every time she looked over he was smiling a little. And then he wondered if she knew it was because he knew.
She caught him peeking at her, only once.
“Sorry.”
“What for?”
“Distracting you.”
“You aren’t,” she said with her trademark big smile he was quickly falling for.
She reached out and took his hand and returned to her work, typing one-handed. He didn’t even try writing a story, and not just because she took one of his hands hostage.
“Am I keeping you from writing?”
“Nope,” he said, trying to be coy. He played around online for a bit with his right hand, and eventually gave up. She kept typing, but her mind wasn’t really on the task at hand either. It wasn’t long before she closed her laptop.
“Are you done?”
“Nope.”
“I promised you that if we had a homework date we would actually finish stuff.”
She smiled again, and he knew he would be losing this one. He closed his laptop and put it on the other couch as she scooched closer. She started messing with his hair a little, and so he poked her in the ribs, trying to find a ticklish spot. It didn’t take long.
“Don’t!”
“Don’t what?” he said with a devilish smile. He could see he’d figured it out…he’d been trying to tickle her feet earlier, with no success.
“Come here.”
They kissed, and he stopped her after a bit. “Do some work. I don’t want you to refuse other homework dates because we don’t focus.”
She smiled and started some paperwork, and he listened to her scribbling as he wrote a story. When the scribbling stopped he knew she was trying to read the story he was currently typing on his Mac. He looked up and caught her looking.
“What?”
“Don’t read it as I type!” he said, trying to cover the screen with his hand.
“Can I read it when you’re done?”
“Maybe…we’ll see.”
“Is it about me?”
“Mind your own business.”
“Well..if it is about me, doesn’t that make it my business?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Nope. And don’t worry, it’s not about you.”
She frowned and returned to her paperwork, and he finished the story about their homework date.
A Flash of Inspiration 