Chapter 14 Naomi #2
“Bad breakup?” Liam asks gently.
“Very,” I say, and I’m surprised how easily it comes. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the altitude, or just their presence. “We were together before we presented. High school into college. Then, we found out we were scent matched, which was a huge deal.”
Felix’s smile is gone completely now.
"Then, I got into Columbia Law, he got into some fancy university in Europe," I go on. "We were going to do the whole long-distance thing.”
Silas’s eyes are on me now too, unreadable.
“And then,” I say, attempting a laugh, “just as I was moving in on campus, he dumped me by text me. Said, and I quote, ‘I won't let biology decide my future.’”
Felix chokes. “He did not.”
“Oh, he absolutely did.” I lift my mug in a half-toast. “Poetic, but ouch.”
“That’s brutal,” Liam says quietly.
“Yeah.” I swallow, my throat tight. “I grew up thinking finding your scent match was it, you know? Endgame. Turns out fate made some sort of clerical error.”
No one jokes this time.
“So, yeah," I shift on the cushion. "No one back home is freaking out about me. Mia knows I’m here and is totally freaking out, but… romantically speaking, it’s just me… "But what about you three? Nobody wondering why you've been off the grid for three days?"
“Nope,” Felix says. “That kind of thing hasn't happened since our scent match.”
The room goes very still and I blink. “Your… what?”
“Our scent match,” Liam says, exhaling like he’s forcing the words out.
“The ex we just told you about,” Silas adds. The words sound like they scrape on the way up.
The air feels dense.
Their ex was also their scent match? Waw…
“She got a job offer in London,” Felix says, staring at his hands. “Big deal. Packed a bag, kissed us goodbye, said she needed to ‘re-evaluate her life trajectory’—her words—and got on a plane.”
My heart twists. “She just… left?”
“She said…” Silas starts. His jaw works. He looks down at the floor like he’s reading from it. “She said we weren’t…”
His voice drops off.
“Making her happy anymore,” Liam finishes, barely above a whisper. “So she was going to find whatever did.”
Felix lets out a laugh that isn’t really a laugh. “Right before Christmas too. Great timing."
He’s smiling, but it sits wrong on his face.
I exhale slowly. “Is that why you…? The game date?”
Silas nods. “Yeah.”
“And I just barged in here demanding you play on that exact day like some kind of… corporate wrecking ball.” I wince. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It's fine, it's probably our fault,” Felix says. “We've been too busy shoving our heads in the sand to tell anyone.”
“Which is clearly the hallmark of emotional maturity,” Liam says dryly.
A weak laugh escapes me.
Felix blows out a breath and straightens a little, like he’s physically resetting the mood. “But hey, look at us,” he says. “Four people stuck in a blizzard, drinking overpriced whiskey, all dumped by our supposed scent matches. What are the odds.”
“Universe has a weird sense of humor,” I say. “Zero out of ten. Would not recommend the service.”
“Maybe we should start a support group,” Liam muses, his mouth twitching. “Very exclusive membership.”
“‘Abandoned by Scent Matches Anonymous,’” I suggest.
“ABSMA,” he says. “That acronym is hideous.”
“Fitting,” Felix says flatly.
The quiet that follows is heavy but… shared.
Silas lifts his mug first. His voice is low, rough around the edges. “Fuck scent matches.”
For a second, we all just stare at him. But then, one by one, we raise our mugs too.
“Fuck scent matches,” we echo, clinking our glasses.
I swallow a mouthful of coffee-whiskey that burns all the way down.
For a moment, no one speaks. The fire pops. The storm presses at the windows.
Then Liam clears his throat. “This is going to sound wildly off-theme after that very cathartic toast,” he says, “but… does anyone want to watch a movie?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “Please.”
“Hell yes,” Felix says. “We’ve got like eighty DVDs. I can’t believe I forgot.”
Silas rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t object. They actually fall into an argument about options.
“Home Alone,” Felix insists. “Seasonal. Classic. There’s ice. There’s pain. It’s practically a sports documentary.”
“There’s two seconds of hockey,” Silas counters. “That doesn’t make it a sports movie.”
“Still counts,” Felix says.
While they bicker, I sink deeper into the corner of the couch. Felix shifts without thinking, his thigh pressing along mine. He doesn’t move away. Neither do I.
Liam eventually wins with The Holiday. Classic. He dims the lights. Felix digs in a basket, comes up with a big knit throw, and tosses it over our laps. His fingers brush the bare skin of my wrist as he tucks the edge in.
My whole body notices.
“Warm enough?” he asks quietly as the opening credits roll.
“Yeah,” I say. My voice comes out softer than I expect. “Thanks.”
We watch in silence for a while. At some point my head leans back into the couch cushion and his knee nudges closer, our legs lined up from hip to knee.
I should probably move.
I don’t.
Somewhere during an especially ridiculous meet-cute, I realize Liam has gone quieter than usual, which I realize means he’s fallen asleep. On the other side of the couch, Silas’s head is tipped back, eyes closed.
It’s just me and Felix awake now. The TV paints the room in soft light.
He leans in to make a comment about the movie at the exact moment I turn to say something.
We end up far too close.
His breath ghosts over my mouth. I catch a faint trace of coffee, whiskey, and something all Felix sneaks past the DuoBlocks for half a second… or maybe my brain is filling in the blanks.
We freeze, and for a moment, we just look at each other.
Then, slowly, he dips his head that last inch.