19. Cole
Chapter nineteen
Cole
Elena stumbles, her heel catching on uneven pavement. My hand shoots out instinctively, catching her by the waist. The contact is electric. Even through her jacket, I feel the heat of her skin, the curve of her hip fitting too perfectly beneath my palm.
"Careful," I murmur as every nerve ending in my body lights up like a fuse. The instinct to pull her closer wars with the rational part of me shouting that I should let go.
This is dangerous territory.
She's looking up at me now, those green eyes like clear forest pools, seeming to see right through me.
Her lips are slightly parted, her breath coming a bit faster than it should be from such a small stumble.
The streetlight catches the flush on her cheeks, whether from alcohol, exertion, or something else entirely, I can't tell.
And then there's her scent. Damn.
It’s slightly stronger than it was yesterday in the first aid tent. Subtle still, yet compelling… in a way that makes me want to bury my face in her neck and breathe her in.
Boundaries, Cole.
But boundaries are getting harder to maintain when she's looking at me like that. When the air carries her scent straight to a primal part of my brain that doesn't give a damn about being appropriate.
"Thanks," she whispers, her voice softer than usual.
I should step back. Put distance between us. Instead, I find myself adjusting my grip slightly, my thumb brushing against her jacket in what might be the world's smallest caress.
What the hell am I doing?
Before I can answer that question, a car passes by, its headlights sweeping across us like a spotlight. The moment breaks, reality rushing back in. I drop my hand and step back, immediately missing the contact.
"Just... just up ahead," she says, gesturing down the street, her voice slightly unsteady.
We resume walking, the easy silence now charged with a different kind of tension. I'm hyperaware of every step, and my mind races with thoughts I shouldn't be having about a woman I barely know.
It started as idle attraction when she caught my eye back in the lineup.
But that moment in the first aid tent changed things.
Watching her try to hide her pain, still cracking jokes, her fierce determination.
.. something about it lodged under my skin.
She stopped being a stranger. And now, I can't seem to stop thinking about her.
This is… not good. I’m just passing through. My life’s waiting for me back in the city; demanding, relentless, full of expectations.
But that's also the problem, isn't it? Part of me doesn't even want to go back. The idea of returning to the cold efficiency of my real life feels partly… hollow. When did that start?
Lost in thought, I barely notice where we’re headed until we slow in front of a familiar red brick building. My insides do a weird little flip of recognition.
"Well, this is me," Elena says, fishing for her keys. "Thanks again for the escort."
I stare at the building, then at her, then back at the building.
"Wait. This is where you live?"
She raises an eyebrow at my obvious confusion. "Yeah, why?"
"Because I'm—" A short laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. The universe has to be fucking with me at this point. "I'm staying here too. Short-term rental on the third floor."
Her mouth falls open. "You're kidding."
"Apartment 3B," I confirm, still processing this development.
"3A," she says, shaking her head with a disbelieving smile. "Wow," she continues, a little breathless laugh escaping her. "I’ve been meaning to say hello, bring over some cookies or something. But with work at Pierre’s, the festival…"
I nod automatically, but I’m not really listening. She's unaware of the grenade she just dropped.
My cheeks heat. From embarrassment. From knowing . The sounds. That night when I thought some siren was trying to kill me with a song of pure need.
She was the one.
My brain tries to reset. Fails.
Because now, I can’t stop picturing her on the other side of that wall.
Oh, fuck.
Literally.
She trails off, and I realize I’ve missed whatever she just said.
“...Anyway, I’ve just been so busy,” she finishes.
“Uh, same here,” I reply, recovering. “Between pre-festival safety drills and actual festival fires, my social life’s been limited to checking extinguishers and writing incident reports. Until tonight, anyway.”
We stand there for a moment, a comfortable, slightly giddy silence settling between us, the absurdity of it all sinking in. The woman who’s been occupying far too many of my thoughts has been living just one thin wall away this whole time…
“Well,” she says finally, her smile soft and a little shy as she fishes her keys from her purse, “since we’re both going up…” She hesitates for a second, then her eyes flick up to meet mine. “Would you… like to have tea, or… something?”
My internal alarms are screaming. It’s late and we’ve both been drinking. The professional thing would be to decline with a smile and head back to my own apartment, alone.
Instead, I hear myself say, “Tea sounds good.” My voice rougher, deeper, than usual.
What in the seven hells am I doing?
“Fair warning,” she adds, tossing me a glance over her shoulder as we head into the building, “my place is probably a mess.”
"Fair warning to you," I reply, my voice a low rumble, "I may end up checking your smoke detectors and escape routes. Occupational hazard."
She laughs, bright and unguarded. The sound echoes off the tiled entryway, and something in my chest tightens with it. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in years.
By the time we reach the third floor and she unlocks her door, an inviting scent wafts out, wrapping around me like a welcome hug.
Just tea , I tell myself as I step inside. Just conversation between neighbors.
But when the door clicks shut behind us, sealing us into the moonlit glow of her apartment, I’m suddenly not so sure I believe myself.