Chapter 2 #4
A couple of people passed behind her in a cluster, and my hand went to the small of her back before I thought better of it, just enough to guide her an inch closer and out of their way.
She paused.
I felt it.
A small alertness moved through her body and into my palm, the kind that happened when a touch stopped being theoretical.
Her dress was smooth beneath my hand, the fabric giving me almost nothing and her body giving me enough.
Heat came through anyway. So did the shape of her, soft and warm and close enough to make my mind start reaching ahead of itself.
Her eyes lifted to mine.
There it was again.
This was more than screen chemistry. More than projection. More than two people standing in good lighting with enough familiarity to pretend there was substance.
This was real enough to make the rest of the room feel briefly decorative.
We talked another fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. Long enough for me to know I wanted more. Long enough to know that wanting more still didn’t prove anything.
That was the discipline part.
One good conversation didn’t mean a damn thing if a person couldn’t carry themselves past it.
I knew that. So did she, if the intelligence in her face was reading me right.
That was part of what made this feel worth respecting.
Neither of us was rushing to perform destiny because the vibe was good in low light.
We let it be what it was. A real conversation.
Real chemistry. Something that hadn’t needed help from a filter, a caption, or a room full of people pretending not to clock it.
Still, by the time Kendra slid back in with a look that said all right, enough, make a lap, I already knew the evening had changed course for me.
“We’re about to make a round,” Talia said.
“Of course you are.”
“You saying that like you know me.”
“I know enough.”
Her mouth curved again. “That sounds like confidence.”
“Could be.”
She shifted her clutch higher under her arm. “You always this sure of yourself?”
“Only when I’m right.”
She looked me over once, slow enough for me to feel it and direct enough to make me respect it. Like she was still thinking. Still deciding. Still letting me know the door wasn’t closed, but I hadn’t earned my way through it either.
“Mmm,” she said, soft enough for only me. “We’ll see.”
Then she was gone with Kendra, a sweep of perfume, black fabric, and gold catching under the lights as they moved deeper into the room.
I watched longer than I should have.
Devon found his way back to me three minutes later and didn’t even bother hiding his grin.
“You look gone, nigga.”
“Watch yourself.”
“I’m serious.” He leaned in a little. “That woman right there?”
“Relax.”
“I’m not the one staring at her like networking just changed your life.”
I took a drink and said nothing, because what the hell was I supposed to say?
My body had gone tight and alert the second I touched her.
Her laugh up close had done something I was already irritated enough to resent.
Talking to her felt better than it should have that fast. And the best part of the whole thing wasn’t even how fine she was, though God knew that had its own argument.
It was how easy it had been to stay in the conversation because she actually had somewhere to go with a thought once it left her mouth.
I kept all that to myself and let the room move around me.
Later, after another drink and a handful of conversations I barely registered, I saw Talia near the front again with Kendra beside her, her clutch in one hand and no drink in the other. She was leaving.
She caught my eye from across the room.
It wasn’t a full goodbye. Just a look. A little nod. The kind of acknowledgment that understood itself perfectly well without theater.
I gave it back.
Then she turned and disappeared into the night.
By the time I got home to my condo on the North Shore, I still had her on me.
Her perfume. The smooth drag of that dress under my palm. The way her mouth softened when she was amused. The steady hold of those amber eyes, like she had no interest in looking away first.
I dropped my keys in the bowl by the door, loosened my collar, and stood in the middle of my living room for a second with the river dark below me, the bridges lit up, and downtown glowing through the windows.
Still, Talia’s face moved through my mind in pieces.
Her laugh. Her mouth. Those amber eyes. The line of her neck. The way that dress moved over her hips every time she turned, like it knew exactly what it was doing.
I scrubbed a hand over my bearded jaw and went to pour a drink I didn’t need.
That was the problem with finally meeting somebody in person after months of ambient online familiarity.
Now the digital version had weight, temperature, scent, and body.
Now, when I thought of Talia Vaughn, I wasn’t thinking about a profile picture or a Threads take or some quick little response under a conversation about dating and delusion.
I was thinking about a woman in black standing too close in a room that had already been too warm.
My phone lit where I’d tossed it on the counter and when I looked down, and it was a new story from Talia.
Just her hand on the wheel. Lavender nails. Dashboard lights low. The city sliding by in pieces. Carl Thomas singing “Hey Now” low through her speakers.
Caption: maybe some things really do hit different in person.
I smiled before I meant to.