Chapter Twenty
I left soon after Sebastian passed out on the couch. I couldn’t take the silence anymore, the tension that thickened the air to the point where it was stifling. This morning, I was confident he’d be coming back, that we could finally explore whatever this is between us, but now?
The guilt on his face was enough to tell me it’s a war in himself that I’m not sure he’ll be able to win. And I get it, I do. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
So now I’m back at my house, music playing as I dance in my newly built dance studio. It still needs my touch but right now, it’s fine for what I need it for. I watch myself in the mirror, at how my body moves and flows to the soft and slow beats of The Loneliest by M?neskin. I changed into a tight pair of leggings and bodysuit after I’d unpacked them from one of the many suitcases, tied my hair up and now my skin is glistening in the bright lighting of the room and my chest rises and falls rapidly with my racing breaths.
I haven’t stopped. Song after song has played and I keep dancing.
It’s a release. A distraction.
And this is better than wallowing in self-pity because the guy I’ve wanted for half my life, is going to pick my brother over whatever it is that we have between us. I’m not oblivious to it, neither is he. We have ignored it, turned a blind eye but it was there. It had turned sour until finally, it became too much.
I wasn’t able to stop it as much as he wasn’t.
So, I dance so I don’t cry at the chances we have lost.
I deserve happiness, I deserve the same kind of love my brother has with Willow and Malakai has with Olivia. Killian deserves that too.
Even if we find it with other people.
I won’t chase him.
I don’t want to be a regret that sours his tastebuds.
The song bleeds into another and then another, and I continue to dance right until it feels like my feet are bleeding and my body is so physically exhausted, I’m struggling to stay standing. It’s only then that I admit defeat, shutting the studio down so I can take a shower and go to bed.
Cleaned, dressed and my hair braided, I head through to the bedroom, the makeshift bed on the floor made up with fresh sheets but the smell of him still lingers.
I haven’t cried yet and I’m not going to now, even when my eyes burn with the threat of them. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? It was one night and maybe that was all destiny had planned for us.
Steadying my breath, I hit the switch and climb onto the mattress, pulling the covers over me. Even with fresh linens, he stays, woven into the threads.
Before I close my eyes, I check my cell one last time, a fleeting moment of hope blooming in my chest when I see I have a new text notification. I open it only to find it’s my manager advising that the final cut of the music video has been completed, and I’m to go to a party on Tuesday where it will be revealed. It’s three days from now but I don’t want to see Adrien.
I choose to handle it in the morning and place my phone back down, forcing my eyes shut. I am so fucking tired. My whole-body aches and I’m still sore between my legs, I need to sleep but it doesn’t come.
I lay there with my eyes squeezed closed, begging my mind to just shut off, to let me go but the claws are in deep.
The door to my bedroom opens and I snap up in bed, a scream building in my throat .
“It’s me,” Killian’s low rasp sounds from the doorway, the little light available only outlining his silhouette.
My heart starts to race inside my chest as the silence pulls tight between us and just when I think he isn’t going to move, he steps into the room, clicking the door closed behind him.
“You’re here,” I whisper. Did I fall asleep, and this is a dream? Am I not even safe from him in my sleep?
“Where else would I be, Tiny Dancer?” He asks so earnestly I wonder if I made up the whole thing but no, I saw his expression, I saw his pain.
“But Sebastian…”
“Please, don’t,” He croaks, “I can’t.”
“What do you want, Killian?” I ask him gently.
“I want to lie with you,” He whispers, “Can I lie with you?”
He chose me. He’s here, he chose me.
“Yeah,” I breathe, pulling back the sheets on the other side of the mattress. He expels a breath, and his shoes tap against the floor as he crosses the short space to me and then I listen to the rustle of his clothes as he undresses.
His skin is warm when he finally lays himself down onto the bed, turning to me immediately.
The brush of his fingers against my skin startles me in the dark, so gentle as he sweeps away a tendril of hair that had fallen across my face.
My breath stutters from me as he trails that hand down my face, to my jaw and then my throat, following the curve of my shoulder until he flattens his palm against my spine. He applies pressure and draws me in close, tucking my head under his chin as he wraps me up into him, curling himself around me until legs and arms are tangled, our hearts beating against each other’s.
Sleep comes easier now, like my body is happy to shut down, the weight of Killian’s arms and the feel of his breathing like a lullaby.
I wake to the sun beaming through my curtainless windows, my cheek resting on Killian’s chest as his fingers stroke delicately up my spine. He’s still, breathing soft, content but he’s clearly awake.
Tilting my chin up, I see him staring toward the ceiling.
“Good morning,” I rasp, sleep edging my tone.
He flicks his eyes down to me, the edges of them creasing just a little, “Good morning.”
“Did you sleep?” I ask, shifting so I can look up at him more comfortably.
He laughs on an inhale, forcing it to be more breath than sound, “Yes.”
“Why is that funny?” I go to move onto my elbow so I can look at him better, but he curls his hand over my arm, keeping me in place.
He shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter, did you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” I grin up at him, “But I think I really need a bed.”
He smiles, a full bright smile that shows teeth and lights up his face, “You think? How long were you planning on sleeping on the floor?”
I lift a shoulder lazily, “It was only me here.”
“I’m going to need a bed,” He grumbles, “We’ll go shopping today.”
“Wait,” I bolt up suddenly, dislodging his hand, “You’re going to come?”
“Why not?”
“Well…” I trail off, “Okay.”
“Get up,” He moves his hand down my spine and taps my ass, “Let’s go.”
I’m finding it incredibly difficult not to get attached to this idea of us. The easy, comfortable motion in which we move together. It’s jarring, going from one extreme to the other and yet it feels natural.
There’s heartbreak on the horizon, I’m sure of it but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to skip toward it, like a na?ve little girl hoping I’m wrong.
I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom to prepare for the day, changing into a pair of black oversized jeans and a white cropped tee since the weather has taken a bit of a turn. I pull my hair into a pony and apply a small amount of make up before I head downstairs, finding Killian sipping a coffee at the kitchen counter.
He gestures to a coffee he already prepared for me before he puts his own mug down.
I watch him as he crosses the space between us, tilting my chin up with one hand while the other goes to my hair. I don’t have a chance to react when he grips the tie and tugs, releasing my hair from it.
He then wraps the strands around his hand and pulls, forcing my neck to bend and his mouth descends on mine. The kiss is hungry at first, desperate. He kisses me like I’m his first and last meal, as if I am the breath in his lungs.
It leaves me weak in the knees and when he finally releases me, giving me a quick peck to the corner of my mouth, he smiles and then says, his words against my lips, “I like your hair down, Tiny Dancer.”
“It gets in the way,” I point out, voice breathless.
“Let me know,” He grins, “I’ll pull it out the way for you.”
Killian leaves me with that, striding back up the stairs and all I can do in the meantime is presume what he means. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this is where we would end up.