54. We Were Here
We Were Here
Kiri
Natalia stands beside the bed wrapped in a sheet while I sit on the edge in my boxers, trying to convince myself to get dressed.
Kasia is already on her way. That should be enough to make us move faster. It isn't.
Somehow, every attempt to get dressed turns into another kiss. She laughs against my mouth when I pin her against the mattress again.
“I have to leave.”
I kiss her anyway. Her fingers slide into my hair, holding me there like she has no intention of going anywhere either. Eventually, she pulls back just far enough to breathe.
“Kasia’s going to be here any minute to drag me to that lawyer before our flight leaves. I can’t be late. You need to get dressed.”
“I'd rather spend my time watching you. I’ll hide in the bedroom until you’re both gone, then I can worry about clothes. Just give me the all clear once you’re in the Uber.”
She smiles, but it fades quickly.
“And then what?”
“I go back to my room.”
“I mean after that.”
She wrestles herself free under my protest then grabs her leggings from her suitcase and steps into them.
“I’ll be here another month,” I say. “Album development. Interviews. Meetings. The fun kind where Stefan, Elise, and Dawn explain the band’s 'next move'.”
“Next move?”
“Code for: I'm a huge fuckup and how to stop being one.”
Normally, that would get a laugh. Today, it earns me a worried look as she pulls the leggings over her hips, her movements suddenly quick and precise.
“Then you come back to Seattle?”
“That’s the plan.”
She throws a hoodie over her head, but it gets folded in on itself.
Her face disappears somewhere inside it as she tries to find the opening, misses, and tries again.
I stand and cross the room. Her shoulders are already tight beneath my hands when I untangle the hoodie and hold the neck open so she can push her head through.
“What’s happening in that gorgeous head? You can’t even dress yourself this morning.”
I pull the drawstrings down on either side of her neck, making sure they’re even.
“Last time, you decided it was all a mistake.” She looks down. “I need you to tell me I’m being ridiculous. That there's no way you'd do that again.”
I cup her face. She tries to look away, but I hold her there gently until her eyes return to mine.
“I’m not doing that again. I’m not changing my mind,” I say. “I’m not deciding this was a mistake. I’m not calling you from some hotel and telling you there’s no future because I got scared of wanting one.”
I kiss the doubt from her lips before it can turn into another question. A promise made with something physical because I’ve already proven words are too easy for me to weaponize. When I pull back, her eyes are bright.
“I want specificity.”
I brush my thumb beneath one of them.
“I’ll call you tonight.”
“And tomorrow?”
I nod.
“And the day after that?”
“As many days as it takes for you to get sick of me.”
“That could take a while.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Her mouth finally softens. I kiss her once more, then make myself let go. Natalia returns to getting dressed while I drop backward across the bed in my boxers, one arm folded behind my head.
She catches me watching her in the mirror.
Then she bends so slowly to retrieve her other shoe that I’d swear it was a slow-motion video if I weren’t living through the experience.
My gaze follows exactly as she planned. When she straightens, her eyes drop lower along my body and widen slightly at my immediate reaction to her performance.
“That was incredibly easy.”
“You’re the one bending over in front of me.”
“I was putting on a shoe.”
“You were doing it provocatively. On purpose.”
She looks again at the effect watching her has on me, and a devious grin crosses her face.
“This 'problem' has only gotten worse,” I say with a smirk.
“We spent the entire day trying to fix it.”
“By giving me mental recordings of everything I’m going to miss while you’re back in Seattle?” I shake my head. “I’d call that much, much worse. Definitely not fixed.”
Natalia laughs despite herself and reaches for her makeup bag. The room settles into something almost domestic after that. She stands at the mirror working concealer over the marks along her neck while I watch from the bed. She tilts her head one way, then the other.
“You actually mauled me. If I’m a crocodile, you’re a fucking bear.”
She points to a mark just below her jaw.
“I’d call that enthusiasm.”
“This is going to take industrial-grade coverage.”
“I didn’t mean to leave hickeys. I just got carried away.”
She looks at me through the mirror.
“I haven’t done that since high school,” I add. “Guess I'll just have to get better at it.”
“At making hickeys?”
“At wanting everyone to know you're mine without making a mess of you.”
The words leave me before I can reconsider them. Natalia goes still. So do I. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
“That sounded possessive,” I say. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Then she turns back to the mirror and applies another layer of concealer. I stare at the ceiling because looking at her has become a temptation, one I’m completely incapable of resisting. A knock sounds through the suite.
“Nat?” Kasia calls. “It’s me.”
The reality of her leaving hits all at once.
Natalia caps the concealer as I stand. Then she crosses the room and throws her arms around me.
I hold her tightly while she presses her face into my chest. I feel the breath she takes to keep herself together.
Something burns behind my own eyes. Neither of us acknowledges what we’re feeling, that'd make this too real.
She pulls back first and looks up at me.
Another knock.
“Natalia?”
“She’s going to break the door down,” I whisper.
Natalia kisses me hard, her fingers curling into my shoulders until Kasia knocks a third time.
“Go hide,” she whispers against my lips.
I steal one final kiss and retreat toward the bedroom. At the doorway, I look back.
Natalia stands in the middle of the suite wearing leggings and a hoodie that are somehow just as hot as the dress from the party. Every visible mark is covered. Her hair is fixed. Her mouth is composed.
Only her eyes give her away.
She draws in a breath and puts on the polished smile she wears for cameras, brands, strangers—anyone who hasn’t earned the truth.
I hate watching it replace what she showed me.
“I’ll call,” I whisper again.
“You better.”
“Unblock me,” I say with a wink.
"Oh, shit. I will."
I close the door. A moment later, I hear her cross the suite and let Kasia in.
Their voices reach me only in muffled pieces.
Kasia asking whether she has everything and if she’s ready to meet with the lawyer.
Natalia complaining about being rushed. A suitcase rolling across the floor.
I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at my phone.
The suite door opens as their voices drift farther away. Then it closes.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
My phone finally lights.
We’re in the Uber. You can stop hiding like someone’s married lover now.
I smile despite the ache spreading through my chest.
txt me when you get home Kroppy
The message goes to read.
I pull on the rest of my clothes, collect everything I nearly left scattered across two bedrooms, and take one last look around the suite.
The destroyed beds. The abandoned robes.
The remains of our picnic still spread across the livingroom floor.
It looks less like a penthouse now and more like proof.
This happened.
We were here.
I’ve always scoffed at the shit people carve into bathroom stalls and scratch across lockers, but now I understand it.
It’s the need to mark something physical with a feeling too big to contain.
To plant a flag in reality and say this moment existed.
Part of me wants the penthouse to stay like this forever.
Ours.
I leave before I can talk myself into staying. Before I pay several thousand dollars just to wallow around in discarded snack wrappers and sheets that smell like her.
The hallway is quiet when the door closes behind me as I turn toward the elevators.
Rithy is leaning against the opposite wall with his arms folded. He looks at the suite number, then at me. His gaze travels over my wrinkled clothes, messy hair, and the mark Natalia left near my collar. A slow smile spreads across his face as he raises an incredulous eyebrow.
“Good morning, brother.”