Eleven
KYLE
The limo ride home feels impossibly long. The gentle hum of the engine beneath us is a strange contrast to the buzzing in my chest, the tension that’s built up over the course of the evening. We’ve spent the night in the whirlwind of the gala, surrounded by glitz, glamour, and flashing cameras, but now that it’s just the two of us in this car, heading back to New Hampshire, and the quiet feels different. And after what we just shared, it’s not only intimate, it’s charged with words and promises left unspoken.
I glance at Elodie out of the corner of my eye. She’s gazing out of the window, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights passing by. She looks beautiful, her red gown still shimmering faintly in the dim light, her wild curls flattened into waves that merely hint at what we did on the plane. A hint of a smile plays on her lips.
The way she handled herself at the gala, how she stayed calm even when she was obviously overwhelmed by the glittering world around us, only made me more impressed with her. She didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from it. She just kept going, kept smiling, kept engaging. I’ve seen so many people crumble under the weight of fame, but Elodie? She was in her element, just herself, navigating it all with grace.
I can’t help the word vomit that follows.
“Elodie you’re everything. You’re not just sexy, and smart, but funny. I love how effortless and natural your humor is and how you have this ability to make me forget about everything around me. I’ve spent the evening being captivated by you. You challenge me, and you tease me, and believe it or not you have this quiet confidence that I deeply respect. I’ve met countless people in my life, but Elodie? You’re different. You’re real, and I meant what I said. This may have started out as a temporary date, but I want you in my life. For real.”
Her laugh fills the quiet of the limo, and I can’t help but smile. That laugh, it’s light and carefree, the sound of someone who doesn’t take herself too seriously, who knows how to find joy in the little things. And it’s infectious. In moments like this, I can’t remember the last time I felt so genuinely at peace.
I shift in my seat, glancing over at her again. Her eyes are still focused on the passing lights, but she seems lost in her thoughts. The conversation has slowed, and the silence between us feels natural, comfortable, like we don’t need to fill every moment with words.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” she says suddenly, her voice soft and contemplative.
I raise an eyebrow, not entirely sure what she’s referring to. “What happened?”
She turns to face me, her lips curling into a smile. “The entire night. The gala. The fact that I’m here, in a limo, on my way back from New York City, with you. Joining the mile high club .”
Elodie wags her eyebrows at me.
I laugh, but it’s not because I find her statement funny, it’s because I get it. I get the disbelief. “I can’t believe it either,” I admit. “But here we are.”
She sighs, her fingers absently playing with the edge of her dress. “It’s like something out of one of those cheesy romance novels I read. I keep expecting to wake up and realize this was all just a dream.”
I chuckle at that, knowing exactly what she means. The fantasy of it all. The impossibility of it. But somehow, against all odds, it feels real. Too real, in fact. “You’re not dreaming,” I say, meeting her gaze. “This is all real.”
She looks at me for a long moment, her hazel eyes searching mine. And for the first time tonight, I notice something else in her expression. There’s a vulnerability there, a fleeting hint of uncertainty. Maybe she’s just as overwhelmed by everything as I am. I don’t know. But whatever it is, it draws me in closer.
I want to tell her that she’s incredible, that I’ve never met anyone like her before, but the words feel too heavy for the moment. Too loaded. So instead, I keep it simple. “You really do look amazing tonight,” I say, my voice low. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone like you.”
Her lips curve up, but there’s something self-deprecating in her smile. “I feel like a fish out of water. I don’t belong in a place like that.”
I shake my head, frustrated by the idea. “You belong there. You belong anywhere you want to be, Elodie. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Her smile softens, her eyes dropping to her lap for a moment, like she’s absorbing what I’ve said. I can tell she’s not used to hearing compliments like that, not used to someone who means it. And for the first time, I realize that I want her to know how special she is. I want her to understand that she’s not just some girl from a small town. She’s so much more than that.
The limo slows, and I look out the window to see the familiar, snow-dusted streets of our small-town. My heart skips a beat. It’s strange how much I’ve come to appreciate this place in the last few months. For the first time in a long time, I’m not just looking to escape.
The car pulls to a stop in front of her apartment, and the tensions back. The night is ending, and with it comes the looming question of what happens next.
Elodie doesn’t move right away. She’s sitting there, her hands in her lap, staring out the window, hesitating. The night has been incredible, but part of me isn’t ready for it to end. Part of me wants to keep her with me just a little longer. But I don’t know if I should push and invite her home with me, or invite myself into her house.
I open the door for her, stepping out into the cold night air to wait for her. When she gets out, her heels clicking on the sidewalk, I instinctively reach out to steady her. She smiles up at me, her cheeks flushed from the night, her hair tousled in that perfect, wild way that makes me want to run my fingers through it.
We walk together up the steps to her apartment building, the weight of the night still hanging between us. We’re not saying much, just enjoying the silence, both of us caught up in the gravity of the moment.
When we reach her door, she turns to face me. She’s standing so close now. Her eyes flicker from my lips to my eyes, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s narrowing to just this. To her. To me. To what’s between us.
I lean in slightly, my hand brushing against her arm as I reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch is electric. I want to kiss her. I want to taste her lips, feel her body against mine, and let the rest of the world fall away.
But I don’t.
Instead, I press a soft kiss to her cheek, gentle and fleeting, and I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. I want her to know that this is real, that this is genuine, that she means something to me beyond just tonight.
“Goodnight, Elodie,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “I’ll see you soon.”
She looks up at me, her expression unreadable, and then she smiles, a soft, sweet smile that makes my chest tighten. “Goodnight, Kyle.”
As she unlocks the door and steps inside, I can’t help but watch her for a moment longer. Then, I turn and walk away, my heart pounding with the knowledge that something has shifted between us tonight. Something that neither of us can ignore.
And I don’t want to.