Building Friction (Part One)

I should have known from the first time we met that things were going to be tense between us.

I was sitting on Steph's couch when he walked in, beer in hand from the get go. He was tall and decent looking, but far from what I considered my type. There was a brief introduction made by Alex, Steph's roommate. Geoff Petersen was his name. He worked in Alex's office. He nodded toward the people littering the room. Everyone was there for a pay per view fight. There were people sitting on couches, chairs, even the floor. The only available place to sit was next to me, and that was only after Steph stood up and vacated her spot.

"You two should talk," she whispered to me. "You're both movie geeks." She stood up and motioned for him to come sit down. "Hey, Geoff! You can have my place!" As he moved closer, she waved her hand in my direction. "This is Chloe," she said and then turned and quickly gave me that be nice glare.

He smirked uncomfortably, then sank down onto the open cushion. "Hey," he said, adding a personalized nod. I groaned internally.

"Yeah, hey." He shifted around, trying to get situated. The beer sloshed around inside of the amber bottle. I placed a palm flat against the open top and attempted a cordial smile. He'd never been around our crowd before. While I didn't know his story for certain, I could sense that it had something to do with everyone's insistence that I needed to start dating again. My weekends were filled with awkward handshakes and fumbling conversations. My friends were some of the best people I'd known, but they all suffered from Couple-itis, the annoying need to be constantly paired up.

"So, hey," he began in that odd way that people begin a conversation with someone they know nothing about. "You like boxing?" He gestured toward the TV screen and took a swig of beer.

"Not really." I noticed his left foot was tapping in an uneven and entirely irritating rhythm. His beer hand was the attached to the arm closest to me, so when he brought the bottle down from his mouth, it rested half-way on his leg and hovered half-way over mine. From the stance of his body, this guy was clearly a sports guy. My eyes narrowed in on the bottle. I was going to end up with beer spilled on me at some point tonight.

I sighed hard and continued to try and make small talk. "I mainly come just to hang out with my friends." He nodded knowingly. It was now that point where I needed to reciprocate with a question of my own. "So, Geoff is it? Is that with a G or a J?"

"A G," he replied. I rolled my eyes and then hoped he hadn't caught the gesture. "Wow, do you ask guys named Steven if they're a V or a PH?"  When he laughed, it sounded more like a snort. Great. One of those asshole Geoff with a G, guys. Brilliant.

"Actually, I do. People can never seem to spell my name right, so I tend to make sure that I know how other people spell their names. It's a habit." I shifted around in my seat. I had actually been comfortable before all of this. Now I was going to have to either give up my comfortable seat and sit on the floor, but avoid having to go through the motions of this inane conversation with Geoff with a G, or stay put and deal with the mental discomfort that was sure to only get worse with each failed stab at having a sociable discussion.

"What was your name again?" He lifted an eyebrow and smiled sheepishly, extending his free hand in the process. Steph had JUST told him not even 5 minutes ago and now here he was pulling that mindless male bullshit.

I tentatively reached forward with my own hand. "Chloe." I said it loud and firm and then placed my palm lightly within his. As his fingers closed over mine, one of the most piercing zaps of static shock ran from my hand all the way up to my elbow. I shrieked and yanked my hand free, bringing my fingertips to my lips as if they could soften the pain.

He had jumped back half a foot himself and was vigorously shaking his hand. "Holy fuck!" He screamed. His beer hand trembled violently and the beer that I had been anticipating cascaded down in a golden mist, soaking my lap. I jumped up and started running my hands down the front of my thighs.

"Oh, that's real fucking nice," I chirped.

He got to his feet. We were standing maybe 8 inches apart, forced into such close proximity by the multiple bodies surrounding us. From this distance, I could see that he was about a head taller than me. His hair was clean and shiny, the dark brown color glinting in the glow from the TV. He glared down at me. His eyes were an intense green.

"Well, it hurt when you shocked me! I'm sorry that I didn't respond properly to being electrocuted!" A hand was reaching up and wrestling the beer from his grip. One of my friends. Someone who understood that potential weapons should be taken out of the hands of someone I am about to rip into.

"Excuse me, but I was sitting this whole time. You have to work up friction in order to zap someone with static. YOU'RE the one who was shuffling your ape feet across the fucking carpet! YOU'RE the one who shocked ME!" I glared at him. I braced myself for the inevitable proclamation that I was a bitch.

It didn't come. His mouth smoothed into a sleek smirk. He folded his arms across his chest and surveyed me carefully. The TV blared away in a room that had gone hollow with silence. I returned the gesture and folded my arms across my chest as well. I raised an eyebrow, daring him to hit me with whatever he had planned.

My shirt was low cut, and my folded arms pushed my cleavage up. I didn't take full stock of that fact until I saw his gaze appreciate the view. "Nice rack you got there," he drawled. "The art direction certainly exceeds the lousy script."

My arms fell to my sides. A quick flicker of my eyes showed me faces twisted in confusion. No one had gotten the dig. Except me. And fuck him, it was a clever one. I look good, but I have no substance. A backhanded compliment, delivered in a way that only I would be able to understand.

He sat back down on the couch, eyes never leaving my face. The faces in the room all turned to look at me. Geoff patted the couch cushion next to him, shooting me a hint of a grin. "Awe, come on Chloe. Sit back down. It was just beer. It'll wash out."

I wasn't sure how to respond. If I left the room and took off for the back patio, it would give him the impression that he won. But that smug expression on his face was killing me. There was no way I could stay pressed up against him on the crowded sofa for who knew how long.

"Nah, that's OK. I'd rather watch a Michael Bey flick. Or even better! Treat my lungs to a little nicotine." I pulled my pack of cigarettes out of my back pocket and waved it around. "You know. Something healthy by comparison."

I anticipated his smile fading from his lips, but instead it went wide. He was grinning in earnest now. The grin slowly subsided and he gave me a curt nod. My friend Lilly rose from the floor and said she would go have a smoke with me. As we walked out of the room, the other occupants turned their attention back to the fight on the TV. The noise level rose once more. But I could sense him watching me. Just before stepping out the patio door, I turned my head around to see him staring at my ass. He saw that I'd caught him and raised his open palms, giving me that "I couldn't resist" look. The grin returned.

Turning and stepping outside, I felt a tug at the corner of my mouth as well.