a metaphorical story (2)

*not a continuation of 'a metaphorical story (1)'*

Francis inched closer on the couch.

The television continued flickering, showing a movie that Francis had long forgotten about. All his thoughts were focussed on Sherry, the girl of his dreams. She was just sitting next to him, seemingly watching the movie as well.

Her soft hand lay upturned on the seat of the sofa, in between the two of them. This looked like an invitation to Francis, so he similarly placed his hand carelessly near hers. The scene changes. Francis pays little notice, only noting the different animal characters running across the screen.

Suddenly, there was contact. Not the most definite, but there was contact. Finger against finger, hair against hair, whatever it was, there was the slightest minimal contact. Neither flinched, but instead their hands started to overlap. Within seconds their hands were clasped, interlocked in a symbol of unity.

A warm feeling of accomplishment emeated through Francis' body. His face flushed red; he didnt know where to look. It seemed too bold to just look at her at that moment but the pictures of the screen did not register anything in his head. All he could think of was all the dreams he's had about Sherry in the past few months, all the wishes and hopes he had pinned on this relationship. And all this was finally fulfilled, with the simple act of held hands on a couch, on an afternoon of what was supposed to be for watching a movie.

After the show, both went into Sherry's room. Her mother and younger brother were at home, and they were both upright and moral people, so nothing sexual would arise from this. She went to sit at her computer. He joined her, sitting on the stool next to her.

After some idle clicking, she pulled his arm around her back, placing it onto her hip. Francis was stunned - such audacity! And they were not even alone in the house. He was afraid and apprehensive, and quickly pulled his hand away.
After some random clicks on the computer, she grabbed his hand and put it on her hip again. This time, Francis boldly left it there for a few moments, then again pulled his hand back. 'Do i dare do this with mother and sibling at home and the door wide open for all to see!?'

Once again, she pulled his hand across her back defiantly and placed it snugly on her hip. This time, he left it there, and enjoyed the secure grasp he had around her, and leant closer to her and felt her warmth.
Both pretended none of this was happening, and continued talking normally, discussing about some conversation she was having online. His other hand subtlely snuck out and planted itself on her exposed lap - she was wearing a pair of short shorts. He playfully started stroking her lap, and she did not flinch nor fidget, but instead seemed to enjoy the moment with a smile creeping across her face. His hand gently caressed her lap, like one would do to a kitten.

After some time, the time had come for him to leave - it was getting late. They said their goodbyes and left - both not mentioning anything about a new relationship and pretended they were still just normal friends.

Little was he to know that that was the biggest mistake he had made in his life. Sherry never talked to Francis again for several months, for reasons that are unknown. Francis was crushed, dejected and depressed. His heart was broken to more than a million pieces, which even if mended, would always leaving a void where Sherry used to occupy.

The End.