Chapter 7 #2
I told him about the video analysis software I wanted the team to invest in.
He told me about the first time he’d played in Boston, years ago, before the trade, when he was new to our world and getting a feel for the teams. We talked about Beau, about the park, and about the vendor near the entrance who sold pretzels that were always warm and delicious.
When we’d finished and they’d taken our plates, Savina brought over tiramisu, setting it between us on a single plate. Two forks. She beamed before spinning and sweeping across the room to stop at a different table.
His fork crossed paths with mine halfway through. Our hands were close enough that I could feel the warmth from his skin. The touch was small enough to be deniable. Loaded enough to be anything but.
When I excused myself to use the restroom, I stood in front of the mirror after and had a very serious conversation with my reflection about what I thought I was doing.
My reflection didn’t have any answers.
When I came back, Tolrek stood near the front desk, talking to Savina.
I joined him.
“Ready?” he asked.
“We need to get the check.”
“Already done.”
I opened my mouth.
He lifted his brows.
I let it go, though it cost me something. This had shifted from colleagues getting food to something new and I wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Savina rounded the counter and hugged me.
One second I was standing, the next I was being held by a tiny Italian woman who smelled like butter and garlic, a person who made decisions about people in under thirty seconds.
Over her shoulder, I caught Tolrek’s face.
He was watching us with an expression I couldn’t name but felt everywhere.
Savina said something to him in Italian as we moved toward the door. He nodded once.
I didn’t ask for a translation this time.
The street was quieter than when we’d arrived. Cooler too. We walked back the way we’d come, past the same storefronts and the same buildings.
We walked closer than we had before, however, and I told myself I’d loosened because of the wine, but I was telling a tale much like the boy living in the apartment to the left of mine.
The sidewalk narrowed where construction had taken over half of it, wooden barriers forcing everyone into a single file. He strode behind me, his hand resting on my lower back as someone passed, going in the opposite direction.
The touch lasted until we could walk side by side again, and he didn’t remove it right away.
I didn’t shrug him off.
We kept walking, and his hand dropped eventually. I missed the warmth of his palm through my jacket.
The wind picked up, cutting through my clothing, and I hunched my shoulders.
Tolrek eased himself into a position that blocked the wind.
We reached my building, and I turned to face him.
“I’ll make sure you’re safe inside,” he said, tilting his head toward the entrance.
The lobby door had been propped open, and a man was moving boxes inside. We went around him and headed for the elevator.
It pinged, and we stepped inside. We stood in the small space and didn’t look at each other. The mirrored wall showed us both, him taking up most of the area, me small beside him.
We reached the fourth floor and got out. The corridor stretched ahead, one bulb out at the far end. My door was second-to-last. We walked past the other apartments, the sounds of people’s lives filtering through thin walls.
We stopped in the dimmer section of the hall.
I turned to face him, the way you did at the end of an evening. “Thank you for dinner. I had a nice time.” All the normal things people said.
Neither of us spoke or moved.
“Tolrek—”
I turned my head at the same moment he leaned down. He must’ve been aiming for my cheek. A polite goodnight kiss that wouldn’t cross any lines.
My lips grazed the corner of his mouth.
Both of us froze.
His hand came up. Slowly, giving me time to move away. His fingers touched my jaw, tilting my chin up.
He groaned, the sound pulled from a place he may not have meant to let me see. It told me what this cost him, that he wasn’t in control of this any more than I was.
Then his mouth was on mine, and I stopped thinking.
One of his arms came up, bracing against the wall above my head. His other hand stayed on my jaw, his pinky resting against my pulse point. My heartbeat hammered against it, giving me away. He had to feel it. Had to know exactly what this was doing to me.
I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer even though closer wasn’t physically possible. I rose on my toes, my body deciding this was the right thing to do without consulting me.
He kissed me like he’d been thinking about it for longer than two weeks. Like he had finally given himself permission to act on whatever impulse drove him.
I kissed him back the same way.
His fingers moved along my throat in a small circle, and I heard myself make a small, undone sound that I didn’t want to take back.
He ended the kiss, but his forehead came down to rest on mine, both of us pulling in air like we’d been underwater too long.
“Haley.”
He said my name when things were significant. I’d learned that.
I backed away, and my hands shook as I dug through my bag for my keys. He watched while I found them and got the right one into the lock.
The door opened. I stepped inside and turned back.
He hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d kissed me.
“Goodnight,” I said.
“Goodnight.”
I closed the door and leaned against the back, listening.
The hallway remained silent.
I turned the deadbolt, the sound echoing in the quiet.
Only then did he move. His footsteps thudded down the hall, and the elevator pinged, the doors sliding open.
I remained by the door.
I was in so much trouble.