Jeff cautiously sits down on the couch, leaving a gap between me and the 35 year old. He looks over and smiles at me, a smile that turns the air thick of his intention and anticipation. Politely smiling back, I grab my blanket and toss it over myself, repositioning on my flower-fabric cushion. I feel slightly on display, like a whore in a window found in the seedier parts of Amsterdam. He makes passing glances at me and my stomach turns.
We're watching a movie, one with Michael Caine and a cute little kid whose name I don't know. It chugs along at a slower pace than I'd like for a situation like this. Jeff and I are the only two still awake and his obvious interest in me only seems to be growing as the movie continues. He gets up off the couch once or twice and when he returns, he sits down an inch or two closer to me, stretching his left arm along the length of the three-seater and resting his hand dangerously close to my shoulder.
Michael Caine and the cute little kid whose name I don't know end up pushing their vehicle into the ocean by accident, and as I chuckle and Jeff laughs, he makes his move in this game of chess that I don't want to play. Fingers slightly curled and moving in circular motions, he finds my shirt and starts rubbing my shoulder like a visitor at a pet store.
I say, "Yeah, to be honest, I'm not really sure if I'm super interested." Michael Caine is performing a magic trick onscreen.
"Oh, that's alright, we don't have to do anything." He pauses for a moment and says, "I just came over because I like your company." His left hand starts mini-massaging my shoulder, occasionally brushing the flesh of my arm beneath my shirt. It moves to my neck and then up to my hair, running his fingers through a bit of it.
It feels good, I'll admit. Touch is exciting and I'm excited at being touched. But my excitement quickly subsides as he scoots even closer and then slowly rests his head on my shoulder. Two or three inches from my face, his shaved head smells like a hospital mixed with Old Spice, and my stomach doesn't feel any better.
The cute little kid is having a birthday party and Jeff is reaching his beefy hand out and ends up resting it on mine. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, I say to myself. Why are the only people interested in me people that I have zero interest in? He's doing that thing with his thumb, where he moves it left to right, left to right, seemingly trying to rub the very skin off the back of my hand. I'm frozen in fear at this point, no longer enjoying the bit of playfulness. A grown man is laying on me and attempting to sand the flesh off my bones with his calloused fingers.
Still, I say nothing and keep watching the movie. Michael Caine just passed away in his sleep.
I mentally kick myself for not having the backbone to be honest with him, but the nice-guy syndrome compels me to endure rather than simply tell him off. I'm not interested in Jeff, but I'm also not interested in hurting his feelings, either. Instead, I check the runtime of the movie and find consolation in the film being almost over. His big hand with sausages for fingers continues to rest atop of my own, which hasn't moved since he "caught" it. I wonder at this point if he has any idea how uncomfortable I am, but the way he caresses my hand tells me otherwise.
Seriously, I think to myself, what's wrong with me? Just tell the guy already. Tell him you're not interested and politely remove his hand from yours. Nudge his stinky old head off your shoulder and get your ass of that couch. He'd know for sure then, right?
The cute little kid whose name I don't know is talking to his mother. A minute later, the credits start to roll and I finally find a valid reason to end this whole hand/shoulder molestation. I slowly get up and retreat to the bathroom. I pee and wash my hands, look up into the mirror, and mouth to myself, "Holy shit, no good."
When I come back out into Jeff's makeshift love chamber, I express my tiredness and he starts putting on his shoes again. He slips on his hat and stands, walking towards me with his arms outstretched. Damn, this guy really doesn't get it. He wraps his big arms around me and bear hugs me, even lifting me off the ground an inch or so. My return embrace is weak but Jeff seems unphased, so he smiles at me again (making my stomach turn once more) and heads for the door.
"Drive safe," I say.
He turns around and says, "See you soon, sweetie."
