Nine
“A kiss can be even deadlier if you mean it.”
~Catwoman
The cab dropped Nadia off well after dark. It was getting chillier at night and she needed to remember a sweater, unsure what happened to her warm clothes from last season. As she reached the door, she bit her lip. Another code.
Opening her phone, she checked the texts that Elliot sent her with all the numbers she needed to know, smiling at his last one stating that her mother made it to the airport safe and sound. He even attached a smiley face.
As she punched in the code the door beeped and unlocked. The house was quiet.
“Elliot?”
“In the kitchen,” he called.
Placing her bag by the door, she toed off her sneakers and followed his voice.
She found him sitting at the table looking at his iPad.
Her heart skipped a beat. His hair was in perfect order as usual, but his tie was loose, hanging a few inches below the collar.
Spotting the smudge of dirt on his crisp white shirt she frowned.
“You’re dirty.”
“I brought you something.” Smiling, he stood. “Go look at the window.”
Rounding the counter, she sucked in a breath of surprise. “My herbs!” The sight of her basil and cilantro momentarily pushed all of her worries away. Turning, she beamed at him. “You brought my flowerbox!”
His smile was tight, his cheeks slightly tinged. “I figured you wouldn’t want to leave it behind.”
Touched by his thoughtfulness, she moved without thinking. Rising on her toes, she cupped his sweet face and pressed her lips to his. He stiffened briefly before his hands rested tentatively on her hips.
Pulling back, she whispered, “You are very, very sweet.”
He stared at her, his face blank and his eyes holding a bit of shock. He gradually leaned down and brushed his lips against hers again. She leaned into the kiss, pulling him close as her blood started to heat.
She tried so hard not to think of him in a romantic sense, but he was always doing nice things for her like letting her stay there or explaining words she mixed up or letting her join him on his trip to Hungary.
And now, bringing the one thing she missed from her apartment to his house.
It was impossible to ignore how genuinely sweet he was.
His palms burned through her thin dance clothing and she moaned softly. He shifted forward, deepening the kiss, surprising her with a glimpse of aggressiveness as he backed her against the counter.
The spike of intensity charged her desire, driving it higher. She wasn’t sure feeling any higher around Elliot was a good idea. It would make the plummet back to earth that much more lethal.
Breathless, she braced a hand on his chest and turned her cheek. She hadn’t meant to stir things up again, but somehow, not five minutes after walking through the front door, she landed herself right in his arms. She had to be careful, with him and with herself.
“I need a shower,” she murmured, grasping at any excuse to escape and find her bearings. He had a way of undoing her before she realized she was coming undone.
He stepped back, not meeting her gaze, and nodded. “Sorry. You probably didn’t want to be mauled the minute you walked through the door.”
She stilled and frowned. She kissed him first. “You don’t have to apologize for kissing me.” If she gave in to her wants she’d have him naked by now, but she was really trying to keep her composure. Her gaze drifted back to the herb box he’d hung. It wasn’t easy. He was so damn sweet.
Elliot took a step back. “I lost my head. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”
Why did he sound so disappointed in himself? It was her fault. She started the kiss. And she pulled away, because the minute he flashed that aggressive side he ramped her need into dangerous territory. She was the one who feared coming off too strong. “It’s fine, Elliot. Really.”
“Did you eat dinner?”
He obviously wasn’t comfortable discussing it. “Yes. Did you? I could make something.”
“That won’t be necessary. Martha usually leaves something in the fridge.”
Had he been waiting for her to eat? “I could heat it up for you.”
He shook his head. “Go do what you have to do.”
Feeling like an irritant, she drew back. He shouldn’t have waited for her. “I don’t mind—”
“Go shower, Nadia.” The command in his voice took her off guard. He was clearly flustered by her presence.
“Thank you again for helping with my mother.” She should have taken her herself.
“No problem.” He still wouldn’t look at her.
Nodding, she silently left the kitchen.
She was so confused by him. Maybe she shouldn’t have cut off the kiss.
Maybe he needed that and now he felt rejected.
She was only trying to protect them both from muddying their relationship.
She should have never touched him. All day she told herself she wouldn’t confuse their situation by sexualizing their interactions, but she’d done exactly what she wanted to avoid two minutes after walking through the door.
Or maybe he wasn’t irritated about the kiss at all. Perhaps he had a bad day and asking him to take her mother to the airport was too much. She shouldn’t have imposed on him like that. From now on she’d only look to him as a last resort.
Her shower was wonderful. Of course, Elliot had state of the art bathrooms complete with heating vents and radiant flooring.
Brushing out her hair, she considered how strange her week had been and how much stranger it was bound to get.
It still hadn’t registered that in two days she’d be home, a place she hadn’t been in years.
Braiding her hair into pigtails, she reached for her glasses. She wanted to ask Elliot about his schedule over the next few days, but she didn’t want to be a pest. Still, she needed to double check if he would be staying in a hotel or with her family, so she could let them know.
Slipping her cable knit cardigan over her arms, the one that belonged to her grandfather, she went in search of her housemate.
He wasn’t in his bedroom or the kitchen or the den.
Venturing back up the stairs, she surveyed the many doors, knocking quietly at each one.
The house was silent and big enough to lose a person.
Pursing her lips, she stared out the window and stilled when she spotted movement. In the distance, just beside the blue reflection of the pool, she saw him sitting in a lounge chair.
Sliding the glass door open, it beeped, and then she took the patio steps toward the pool area. His yard looked like a private resort, accented with well-placed landscape lights that made it colorful even at night.
“I couldn’t find you,” she said as she approached so as not to startle him. He turned but didn’t smile or speak. “May I sit with you?”
He nodded so she took the chair beside his, stretching out and looking up at the starry sky. “Wow. There are a lot more stars here than over the city.”
Without looking at her, he said, “It’s the same sky, same amount of stars. Overpopulation causes light pollution, making it difficult to see nebulae or distant galaxies. Same sky. Different perspectives.”
She smirked. “You’re a bit of a know-it-all, I think.”
He faced her and arched a brow. “Did you really want to go on believing the stars favored one part of the sky over the other?”
“Maybe they do, smarty pants.”
“They don’t.”
“Then why are they moving?”
“It’s implied motion—the Earth’s rotating on its axis. And there’s turbulence in the atmosphere, which refracts the light, making them twinkle.”
She rolled her eyes. “What about shooting stars, mister? They move.”
“They’re not stars. They’re meteors—rocks. They only light up because they’re traveling so fast their heat glows as they pass through the atmosphere.”
“You are ruining the sky for me, Elliot. Stargazing is supposed to be romantic.”
He stopped talking and she split her attention between the sky and him. Maybe he didn’t have a romantic side. But how would he explain the window box? Perhaps he’d only meant to be kind or sweet and she was, once again, misinterpreting another man’s intentions.
After a long bout of silence, he asked, “Do you see that strip of light sky there?”
Her gaze followed his finger. “There?”
“Yes. That’s the Milky Way. It’s actually quite tragic how it came to be, if you believe in fairytales.”
“Oh, I do.” She shifted so she could look at him. “Will you tell me the story?”
His gaze remained on the sky. “There was a daughter who wove beautiful fabric and her father loved how talented she was, but she was also lonely and would often cry. She couldn’t weave with tears in her eyes, so when she was sad her toiling stopped.
He loved his daughter very much, so he introduced her to a cow herder and they fell madly in love. ”
Nadia grinned, knowing he didn’t believe a word of what he was saying, but thinking something had to make him recall the fable. “Did they marry and have children?” Perhaps their family was the haze over that part of the sky.
“No. Once she was in love, she was too distracted to weave for her father anymore. He got angry and separated the lovers by a heavenly river of stars, but his daughter was so heartbroken she cried more than she had before—no longer weaving at all.”
“Shame on him for interfering with love. Did her lover beg for the father’s approval?”
“No, a flock of magpies sympathized with her pain and made a bridge of wings for her to cross.”
Nadia smiled. “I think this isn’t a tragic story at all, but a story of how love knows no distance.”
“The magpies only came on the seventh night of the seventh month. It’s said that if it rains, they won’t come and she can’t cross. She has to wait the entire year again.”
The warmth in her chest dissipated and she scoffed. “Well then, I will hope it doesn’t rain so she can cross to her lover’s side and never return to her selfish father again.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think it works that way.”
Snapping her tongue against the back of her teeth, she rolled her eyes. “What do you know? You think shooting stars are rocks. I happen to know on good authority they’re wishes.”
“Good God.”
“Don’t laugh at me, Mr. Cynic. I make a wish every time I see one.”
“And how many have come true?”
“Oh, shut up, Elliot.”
They stared at the sky in silence, which was probably what they should have done from the start. As her eyes grew heavy, she thought about all the questions she had about their upcoming trip but didn’t want to disturb the tranquil moment.
The sky dulled with each sweep of her lashes and soon she was drifting off, dreaming of magpies and lovers reuniting under a blanket of stars. The brush of fingers down her cheek woke her and she shivered.
Elliot looked down at her, expression blank. “It’s getting late. We should go in.”
The air had chilled and she could no longer see the Milky Way. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight.”
He’d sat out there all that time? How did someone tolerate so much silence?
She shifted and put her feet on the ground. He held out a hand and helped her stand, keeping their fingers clasped while they silently made their way back to the house. As they walked upstairs, he shut off lights. When they reached his door he let go of her hand and a physical emptiness took hold.
She couldn’t read him. He was either staring at her with too many secrets in his eyes or pushing her away. There had been two kisses, but both times he’d acted as if he regretted touching her. Maybe he did.
She also had regrets. Mainly, not meeting him sooner, before she threw so many pieces of herself away on men who turned out to be shallow and unkind.
His quiet life and kind heart had a way of casting a blinding light on all of her mistakes and poor choices.
She was attracted to him, yes, but more than anything she wanted him to be her friend.
“Do you not like me, Elliot?”
Sometimes they kissed, sometimes they held hands, but there was little clarity in between. She shouldn’t be so affectionate with him if he wasn’t interested in her as more than a friend.
He glanced at his bedroom door. “I like you.”
Then why did it seem to pain him to say so? “Is that as a friend or…?” Perhaps they were mere acquaintances, him helping another person out because he was simply kind and generous.
His brow tightened and he shifted closer to the door. “It’s whatever you want.”
“What does that mean, whatever I want? What do you want?”
He opened the door and she caught his arm.
“Elliot, wait. Tell me what you want.”
He grimaced and she braced for some unknown level of insult. “I don’t want to get hurt. You’re beautiful, Nadia, but beyond that, you’re thoughtful and caring and a very nice person.”
That hadn’t been what she was expecting. “You’re all those things, too, Elliot.”
“No,” he argued. “You aren’t seeing the real me. Whatever you see when you look at me, I assure you, no one else sees the same. I don’t think you really know who I am, and I’m worried that the more you get to know me, the less appealing I’ll be. So maybe it’s safer to just be friends.”
He was scared she’d be disappointed? In him? She worried about the same issue, that he might hate what he found if he got close to her. She couldn’t imagine what he had to hide, but she desperately wanted to understand him. “There are things you don’t know about me, too.”
He shook his head. “I’m not nice, Nadia. I’m intolerant and exacting. I get extremely impatient with social niceties and artificial bullshit. I don’t want to lead you to believe I’m someone else because I know for a fact I don’t have the tolerance to pretend to be anything other than the man I am.”
“Do you know what I think, Elliot? I think you’re everything I see, but other people see you from a different view.
You’re like a starry night. Consistent. Quiet.
Misunderstood at first glance. Like you said, same sky, different perspective.
I see you. And I think you’re quite beautiful just the way you are.
Maybe that will change, but I don’t know that it will.
There’s nothing wrong with being who you are from where I’m standing. ”
She brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Elliot.”
When she reached her door, she turned and found him standing where she left him, his hand touching his cheek where she’d pressed her kiss.