Chapter 13
The dinner had been easier than this. At least during dinner there was always something to do stir the noodles, set the bowls, refill the water, sit down, eat, tasks.
Now the bowls were in the sink and we were on the couch and there was nothing to do except exist in the same small space and pretend the television was interesting, which I had turned on purely so there was something in the room to fill the silence instead of an actual desire to watch.
The silence was awkward. I pulled my knees closer to my chest while he sat spreading his limbs. It was hard to guess who was the stranger in this place.
I cleared my throat in an attempt to make it less awkward. Failed. He didn't even glance.
Say something Elera. Anything.
"So... were you waiting for me? Earlier?" I asked.
"Yes." One word. Why was it so hard to talk to this man?
"Why?" I pressed.
"Because you took something precious of mine." A pause. "Something I've had since I was born."
Something precious? I took it? I didn't recall borrowing anything from him.
I tried to remember that night again. It came in pieces and none of the pieces were particularly clear- the golden lights of the bar, the room full of suited men, sitting in his lap, the suite afterwards, the dim light, his voice,
waking up the next morning with my head pounding and the overwhelming need to be somewhere else immediately.
I hadn't stolen anything. I was sure of it. I would never,
So what had I taken.
What did I take from him that night that he'd had since he was a baby, that was precious enough to follow me to my regular walking route and wait in an alley for?
We had sex.
I had taken his-
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Had he- was he- had I been his-
I looked at him. At the tattoos and the jaw and the general physical situation of him which was not in any way the situation of someone who had been- who hadn't-
But he had said since I was a baby. He had said precious. And we had only done one thing that night, only one thing I could have taken from him.
"A-" my voice had gone very small without my permission. I swallowed. "And you want me to take responsibility?"
He leaned back against the couch. Just looked at me, with that expression that gave nothing away, and the corner of his mouth did something small and devastating enough to make me feel stupid for even asking when the answer was obvious.
I was going to pass out. Right here on my own couch. Cause of death, consequences.
The heat crawled up my neck had nothing to do with the apartment temperature.
I looked at him sitting there in my stretched grey t-shirt looking completely composed.
The words started coming before I could organize them into anything sensible.
This had always been my problem- a mouth that operated independently when the rest of me was overwhelmed.
"I was drunk, I want to establish that first, I was very drunk, and you're an escort, this is literally what you get paid for, I didn't know I was your first customer, the manager didn't mention that, he really should have mentioned that, I didn't know you were that desperate for money,
I genuinely thought the three hundred covered everything, I had no idea, if I had known I would have" I pressed my lips together hard.
Made myself finish the sentence. "I didn't know you were a virgin."
The silence that followed felt like the calm before a storm.
He looked at me.
I looked back.
He let out a short scoff in disbelief.
"Do you even remember that night?"
"Of course I do... I don't... not everything," I said. Very small voice. "But I know we did the deed."
He went quiet. I could feel the temperature drop without looking at him. Then his voice came, low, dangerous, warning
"Then I'll make sure you don't forget this time."
I had approximately half a second to process that sentence before he closed the distance between us and I did what any reasonable person would do, moved back immediately, my back meeting the armrest of the couch. He looked at me for a moment, questioning the distance.
Then his hand found my nape. Firm, steady, warm and present.
I could feel my hair rise, his touch unfamiliar and strange, something very new to me yet oddly grounding.
His thumb brushed the tiny hairs at the back of my neck.
He leaned in again, slower this time, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face.
"Be good, kitten." Low and raspy against my ear.
And something broke a little. Quietly. In a place I hadn't known was still held together.
It wasn't entirely because of him. It was everything underneath.
The weeks of it, all of it stacking up quietly until tonight when it had apparently reached the limit of what I could hold.
Oliver calling and texting like he had any right to.
Anne existing, acting as if nothing had changed, as if I was simply overreacting.
Sienna's sharp tongue on the worst mornings.
The Arclight client and their endless revisions.
The money I was still quietly counting and recounting.
The looks in the office. The way people asked where Anne was these days in that careful tone that meant they already knew something and were waiting to see if I did too.
Just waiting for gossip. For drama to unfold.
All of it sitting in my chest at once, heavier than it had any right to be.
I was so tired.
I was so thoroughly, comprehensively tired.
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes before I could stop them. I didn't know it was either because I was too emotional or the effect of his presence, I found myself leaning into him and closing my eyes.
He kissed me slowly at first, deliberately.
Like he was making a point, savoring it, and wasn't in any hurry to finish making it.
His hand at my nape kept me exactly where he wanted me and there was something about that.
The certainty of it, the complete absence of hesitation that made it impossible to think about anything except what was happening right now on this couch.
When I broke out of my stillness and kissed him back he made a low sound from the back of his throat.
His free hand found my waist and pulled me closer, unhurried.
The warmth of it through the fabric of my shirt did something to the last reasonable thought I had left.
The kiss deepened and he tasted faintly of the noodles which should not have been as endearing as it was, and I had both hands pressed flat against his chest ostensibly to push him away, functionally doing nothing of the sort.
He kissed me like a man drowning.
When he shifted I came back to myself like surfacing from water gasping slightly, suddenly aware of the couch beneath me and the television still murmuring in the background and the fact that I had just kissed a near stranger on my own couch while crying approximately thirty seconds earlier.
His eyes were dark and close and looking at me in a way that made my already compromised ability to think reduce itself to approximately nothing.
He moved again, closer, and I put both hands on his chest and stood up.
The distance felt necessary and enormous and not quite enough all at once. The cold air of the apartment hit me immediately. I stepped back, arms crossing over my chest, and assembled whatever composure I had left. Not much. But something.
"You can sleep on the couch," I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected. Thank God. "Since you said you don't have a place."
He looked at me but said nothing.
"But don't try to steal anything." I pointed at him. "The security camera outside this building has already caught your face tonight. And I know you work at that bar! I have the manager's number. One call and I'll know everything about you." A pause. "Everything."
Still nothing.
"I also have footage of you cornering me in that alley which I'm sure the police would find very-"
I stopped. I was rambling. We both knew it. The speech had made its point and continuing was only going to undermine it.
I grabbed my bag from my bag, with my phone, with everything important from the coffee table and walked to my bedroom with my chin up and my heart doing something loud and inconvenient behind my ribs.
The door closed.
The lock clicked.
I stood with my back against it and let the dark and the quiet settle around me. Through the door the apartment was completely silent television off, no movement, nothing.
I pressed the back of my head against the door and stared at the ceiling I couldn't see in the dark.
My lips still felt warm.
I slid down to the floor and sat there for a long time, knees pulled to my chest, thinking about nothing and everything simultaneously. I wasn't sure if it was a choice I would regret but I didn't want him gone.
Not yet.