A Knock Away

What's Your Type?

"What's your type?"

"Dangerous question," Vince thought it over for a moment.

Laying on top of him, on my white leather couch, we were wrapped in the fur rug, the one I often sat and drank hot chocolate under.

He was keeping me warm as I rested my head on his chest, peering up to him, as he lay with his head up the arm of the chair.

"Come on everyone has a type, whether or not it's tall, short, brunette, green eyed," I waved my hand, hoping his list wouldn't be so precise.

"You tell me yours, then I'll tell you mine," Vince concluded with a smirk, the shadow of a beard showing in the morning light which burst through my one window in the apartment, across from the coach.

I started to run my finger over his chest, gently tracing his body, "Smart, funny..."

"Nope," Vince caught my finger, stopping me from tickling his nipple, "You said appearance, not personality, and if I have to be shallow in my answer, so do you."

"Alright," damn he'd caught me. "Tall."

He nodded, knowing full well he was perfect at six-foot four.

"Dark hair, no moustache, can't stand those things unless they're an Agatha Christie detective."

"Dually noted, no handlebar mo," Vince scratched his sideburns with a bit of a chuckle.

"Blue eyes," I peered up at him. "Sorry."

"Fair," he put up his hand as if to say it didn't bother him in the slightest, since he was rather fond of his hazel ones.

"I like abs, but who doesn't?" I could feel his perfectly formed ones, pushing into my stomach, realising I better stop before I just describe him anymore. Quickly I gushed, "Your turn."

"Let me think," he ran his fingers through my hair, smiling. "I like brunettes and red heads, but bottle blondes have something special," he was really going to milk this and have some fun with me.

But I loved it, so I didn't attempt to stop him.

"I agree with the ocean eyes," he stared into mine, something I had luckily taken from mum was my azure pupils. "Hourglass," he ran his hands down my sides, making me move up his body slightly in anticipation. Now his hands rested on the low of my back and he finally whispered, "You, Hannah."

I quickly jumped up from the couch, forgetting I was completely naked. He was being sweet. Too sweet. We'd agreed to keep it simple, and in a moment of complete bliss I allowed myself to think of the future. Which was entirely impossible. I needed to part mentalise my life, and couldn't allow Vince into every part of me, not when he wasn't in it for the long run. 'Friends with Benefits' rarely stay friends, and even more rarely become anything more than a few good nights.

I quickly threw his shirt on over myself, as he lay back still under the fur rug looking like the gorgeous gladiator he was. I mean it was like I was sleeping with Fabio, the dude on the cover of those Harlequin novels, and that was an even more dangerous game to be playing.

"I think we should have a break," I tugged down on his long black t-shirt, trying to cover my butt.

Vince sat up, wrapping the rug around his waist, "Did I..."

"No," I shook my head, stretching as if that would help, slightly awkward. "I think we should see other people."

Vince had a slight side smile, able to tell I didn't really want that, "What like the delivery guys?"

He was right, there was only the weekly shopping drop offs who brought people to our door.

"What about that girl in the apartment below us?" I was becoming manic, waking over to the open window to look out at the street, where just down a few blocks were both our businesses.

"Hannah," Vince came over, and wrapped his hands around me, hugging me from behind, both of us looking out the window. "You don't have to worry."

I kept silent, closing my eyes.

"Remember?" He turned me around. "We agreed not to fall in love."

I laughed with him, but I couldn't help my face dropping when he went to the kitchen, wrapped in the rug to make us both a coffee, thinking to myself "I'm in trouble".