Chapter 15 Non-Date
NON-DATE
Walking beside him felt strangely natural, even though nothing about Thane was natural or simple.
The campus stretched ahead of us in soft, warm hues, the afternoon sun dipping lower behind the buildings and casting long shadows across the quiet walkways.
Students passed us in clusters, chatting and laughing, but every sound seemed muted to me, distant, as if the world had quietly stepped back to give us space.
Thane didn’t rush, nor did he stalk the way he had earlier.
No, instead his stride adjusted just enough for me to keep up with him, so subtle I doubted he even realized he had done so.
His hands stayed tucked in his pockets, yet every so often the muscles of his forearm tightened as though he wanted to touch me but held himself back.
The thought sent a hopeful flutter through my belly.
We walked in an easy line along the quiet path, and after a few moments, I finally cleared my throat to ask where he grew up, but he started talking first.
“The college… do you enjoy it?”
Surprisingly, the question felt like something he really wanted to know, not just something to fill the silence.
“My classes are… a lot sometimes. More than I expected, actually. The university feels bigger every day instead of smaller.” Thane looked down at me, his expression unreadable.
“What are you studying?” he asked as we walked, his voice steady, his gaze cutting briefly toward me as if the answer mattered more than it should.
“Business,” I said quietly, trying to keep the distaste out of my tone and failing. “It was my father’s choice, not mine,” I explained, and Thane slowed just a fraction. Just enough that I felt his attention focus solely on me.
“What would you prefer to be studying instead?” I hesitated, pressing my fingers lightly to the strap of my bag.
“English literature,” I admitted. “That is what I actually love.” His brows drew together slightly.
“Why literature?” A small, almost embarrassed smile pulled at my lips as I tried to find the right words.
“Because of the stories... Because people can pour parts of themselves into them, their hopes, their fears, their secrets. You can lose yourself in a book and somehow find pieces of yourself at the same time. It’s like escaping and coming home all at once,” I told him, and something in his expression changed.
Something barely noticeable, but enough that warmth spread slowly through my chest. The afternoon light made his eyes seem even bluer, as if a trick of the sun made them glow slightly as he watched me speak.
“And poetry,” I added, looking away briefly. “I love poetry most of all.”
He studied me again for a moment before asking, “Do you ever write any?”
Heat crawled up my neck, and I let out a tiny breath.
“Yes, sometimes,” I whispered.
He stepped a little closer, his voice quieter, rougher in a way that curled around my ribs.
“I would like to hear one of your poems one day.”
My heart tripped over itself at the sincerity in his words, and I felt my cheeks warm. I couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Maybe, one day,” I said, breathy and shy, though the truth was that part of me wanted him to ask again someday.
“What about you? Where did you grow up?” He hesitated for just a moment before answering.
“Part of my childhood was in the United States,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. “After that, some time spent in Germany.”
“Germany?” I asked, interest blooming across my face. “What was that like?”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Different. Cold. Structured.”
“Structured, how?” I teased gently.
He paused, then, after a moment's thought, he told me, “I was part of a special school there.”
My curiosity spiked again.
“A special school?”
He nodded once.
“It is where I learned most of my languages.”
“Among other things?” I asked, my voice inquisitive as I tilted my head. “Like… fighting?” I tested, referring back to that night in the alleyway. But then I thought I had pushed too far when he abruptly stopped walking. Just stopped, the air tightening between us as he turned slightly toward me.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I saw you in the alley,” I said truthfully, slowing to match his stillness. “The way you moved, the way you reacted… it wasn’t instinct. It was training.”
He studied me for a long, intense moment, the silence palpable. Then his voice dropped lower, quieter.
“Why were you not frightened of me?”
Something inside me fluttered at the gentleness beneath his question.
“Why would I be when you saved me?”
“That is not a reason,” he murmured, stepping closer. His gaze darkened, brushing over my mouth before meeting my eyes again. “Saving you doesn’t mean I’m safe.”
I swallowed hard as he continued to watch me with that devastating intensity.
“I might have wanted to steal you away for myself,” he said, each word slow and deliberate, and my breath faltered. My pulse stumbled. I should have looked away, but I couldn’t, not when his eyes held me like that.
“Maybe I… I would have let you,” I confessed shamefully. He inhaled sharply at this, the sound so soft it felt like it happened inside my own chest.
“Alora,” he said, my name rough on his tongue. It was gentle but also a warning in the same breath, as if I had stepped too close to something he was barely controlling.
The air between us charged instantly, thick with a heat that curled low in my stomach. I could feel every beat of my heart, too fast, too loud, as if it were trying to reach him.
Then I tore my gaze away, grounding myself with a shaky breath as I looked ahead.
“We’re here,” I whispered, breaking the pull between us before it could swallow me whole. “My building,” I clarified for no reason other than to say something more. Anything that would stop him from warning me away from him again.
A warning that, at this point, I knew I would never listen to. Not when I could feel myself falling for him as fast as I was.
So, foolish or not, I was not willing to let him go, no matter how forbidden dating was. Although he had already tried to convince me that this hadn’t been a date, but my mind was already made up. Because for the first time in what seemed like forever, he made me feel something other than sadness.
He made me feel… alive.
My apartment building rose ahead of us, tall and familiar yet entirely out of place after everything that had unfolded between us.
His jaw tightened slightly as he took it in, and I sensed his desire to walk me the rest of the way to my door.
To step into the building, to ensure no one in this world could ever touch me again.
But I knew my father, and I knew Thane could not cross that line.
I stopped and reached for him gently, my fingers brushing his arm, surprised by how solid and warm he felt beneath my touch. Even that small moment made my breath catch.
“Wait,” I whispered, stepping in front of him before he could follow me any further toward the building.
“You can’t come any closer. My father wouldn’t react well.”
Thane’s jaw tightened immediately. He looked at me as though the idea offended something deep inside him.
“Why?” he asked, his voice low and steady, yet carrying an undercurrent of irritation I felt rather than heard.
“It’s just easier this way,” I said, trying for casual but hearing the strain in my own voice. “Easier for everyone.”
He didn’t look satisfied. If anything, his eyes darkened further, scanning the length of the street like he expected something to leap out and justify his simmering anger.
When he finally turned back to me, he stepped beneath the shade of a nearby tree, folding himself into the shadow like it was second nature.
“I will stay here,” he said firmly. I raised a brow, trying to coax a bit of lightness back into the moment.
“You look like you are about to start a war because I won’t let you walk me to the door.”
He didn’t smile. Not even close. In fact, he looked annoyed, a slow burn of displeasure settling across his features.
I shrugged softly and teased, “Besides, it wasn’t a date, remember?”
Something flickered through him at that, something sharp and possessive, though he hid it quickly. Instead of addressing it, he abruptly asked, “Do you have a phone?” The change in topic startled a small laugh out of me.
“Yes, of course.”
“I want your number.” No hesitation, not even an attempt at pretending this was a casual request. My heart leaped because of it.
“You want my number,” I echoed, trying to keep the smile out of my voice and failing. “Really?” I scolded myself at the eagerness in my tone, unable to help myself.
“Yes,” he said, holding out his hand like a man who wasn’t very used to being refused anything.
So, I dug my phone out of my bag and handed it to him, watching the way his fingers dwarfed the device.
He typed quickly, then handed it back. A second later, I heard a faint beep from his pocket. My eyebrows lifted.
“Did you just text yourself from my phone?”
“I did.” He met my gaze without a hint of embarrassment.
“Now I have your number, and you have mine.”
“And why exactly would I need your number?” I asked, trying to sound casual even though what I truly wanted was his answer, the one that would tell me he was not walking away from this, from me.
Maybe this wasn’t him pulling back like he had warned earlier, but him letting something new slip between us before either of us could stop it.
“Call me,” he said, stepping closer as his voice dipped so low it vibrated through me. “If you ever need anything. Anything at all, Alora, you call me.” A soft breath left me, shaky and small.
“I will,” I whispered, feeling strangely reassured by the certainty in his voice. “I promise.”
He gave a short nod, as if sealing a vow, then glanced briefly upward toward the high-rise behind me. Somehow, without being told, he knew which floor my apartment was on. The realization sent a strange chill down my spine, mixed with excitement.
He stepped closer once more, close enough that I felt the warmth of him, close enough that the world seemed to lean toward him along with me.
His hand lifted slowly, almost reluctantly, and the backs of his fingers brushed down my cheek, just like they had done that night.
The touch was so gentle it stole the air from my lungs.
My eyes fluttered shut, my pulse thundering in my throat, because I thought he was going to kiss me.
Every breath I took pressed me closer to something I was not ready for and yet wanted desperately.
I even closed my eyes in anticipation, more than ready for it.
But instead, he murmured near my lips, his breath warm against my skin,
“Until the next time I stalk you.”
My eyes opened instantly, but…
He was gone.
One moment brushed against me like heat, the next swallowed by shadow as if he had never been standing there at all.
I exhaled shakily, my heartbeat refusing to settle.
So, after one more scan around the area for him, I forced myself to cross the road and step into the building.
But my mind was far from home, and it seemed as if I wasn’t the only one thinking about the other, as a soft chime sounded from my phone.
A message.
From him.
I opened it, breath held tight inside my chest…
Thanks for the date, my little dreamer.