I jam my finger into the down button. The elevator chimes and doors swing open. We slip inside and I press the first floor and close door buttons in quick succession, my pulse still pounding in my ears.
“You didn’t answer my question yet. Are you okay?” Liam squeezes my hand, causing me to realize I’ve forgotten to let it go.
I do now, bracing myself with both hands against the rails lining the elevator car. “I got out.”
“Still not an answer.”
“This has only happened twice before. I do the prep work to make sure it doesn’t. It’s my fault; I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” My breath quickens, and I fix my gaze on the ceiling. This is so embarrassing. I’m good at this, but every time Liam’s around, I slip up. Confronting him at the restaurant, reading too much into the interview the other night, and now this?
He must think I’m some sort of joke.
“From what I heard, this is my fault, not yours. And even if I didn’t contribute to why you were in that room, no one has the right to demand anything from you that makes you uncomfortable.” His voice is soft and coaxing. My job is to be concerned about other people, not myself. His worry for my well-being causes something to tighten in my chest.
“Why do you think this is your fault?”
“You’ve been getting cancellations since the article dropped, right?”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“See, my fault.” He raises his brows. Touché.
“But at least it’s a sign the article was good, which is expected since you wrote it.”
“I’ve written a hundred pieces. None of them have taken off like this. I owe that success to you.” There’s a seriousness in his tone that causes me to finally look at him. When I do, my gaze latches with his and my breath catches at the firm intensity of his stare, leaving me no room to argue.
The elevator releases us into the lobby and we head out past the security desk and into the bitter cold of the night.
“So, where’s the car waiting? Or did you take the subway?” I ask, walking toward the edge of the sidewalk, eyes on the cars parked on the curb. I’m ready for this night to be over with.
“I kind of ran here?”
I look behind me. Liam’s flushed from the cold or embarrassment, I don’t know. He’s scraping a hand through his hair, and for the first time, I notice his clothes. Flannel pajama bottoms, boots, and a half-zipped parka.
“You rolled out of bed and ran here? It’s freezing out.”
“Technically, I was on the couch. Any other way would have taken too long. I live nearby—that’s why Iris called, since I could get here faster than she could.”
A smile teases the corners of my lips. “You look ridiculous.”
“Excuse me if fashion took a back seat to your safety.” Even with his anxious movements, his eyes are firm as they catalog every detail of my face. Snow starts to fall, clinging to his long dark lashes.
I fidget, uncomfortable. No one’s ever shown up for me like this. My first instinct is to run hard and fast, it’s the same gut feeling that’s convinced me to ignore his email. But when was the last time I felt like I didn’t need to be in complete control?
Easy, the other night with him at my place when I fought the urge to graze my fingers across the galaxy of freckles on his skin. But before that? I don’t know.
“Thanks for showing up. I guess I should get a car.” I hesitate, before reaching for my phone. “Unless you’re hungry. I haven’t eaten yet. I’ll buy.”
I wasn’t all that hungry at the party, but now my nerves have settled and I feel like I’m running on empty.
“No way I’m letting you do that.”
I argue with Liam about who should pay, until he lets it slip that he already started eating and has food back at his place. He insists that he has enough for the both of us, which is how I end up sitting on his floor, ravenously stabbing at re-heated sesame chicken.
“Maybe I should order more,” Liam says, watching me as I dig in. He’s let me borrow sweatpants and a worn Beach Boys shirt that has that fresh, almost powdery, scent of laundry detergent.
“I’ll be fine,” I reassure him, even as I try to remember if I finished off the bag of Doritos last night. I’m in no mood to cook, especially now that the adrenaline has drained from me and I feel boneless with exhaustion.
“Why is it that I’m the only person who’s not allowed to buy you food? Lunch and now this?”
