"Oh right!" his attention shifts, ego clearly unable to resist the pull of an audience for his story. "So there I was, at three in the morning..."
Emily extracts herself from the group and grabs my hand as Bash and I turn.
"Wait, so you're really leaving?" she whispers into my ear. "With him?" She nods toward Bash, who pretends to be fascinated by something across the room.
"Yes, Em. Is that okay?"
Her expression shifts from surprise to delight. "God, yes. It's about damn time." She glances at Bash, then back to me. "Just... you know... wrap it before you tap it."
"Emily!" I hiss, mortified.
"What? I'm a concerned sister." She grins, completely unapologetic. "Have fun. Use protection. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That's a very short list," I mutter.
"Exactly." She winks, then raises her voice. "Text me tomorrow so I know you're alive."
“Oh my god.” I grab Bash's hand, desperate to escape before Emily can dispense any more sisterly wisdom. "Let's go."
His eyes search mine, serious for a moment. "You sure?"
The question carries weight beyond the simple words. He's giving me space to change my mind, to stay in the safety of the crowded bar with our friends instead of venturing into whatever this electric current between us might become.
I rise on my tiptoes and press my lips to his ear. "I'm sure."
The smile that spreads across his face makes something flutter in my chest.
“Do you have a coat?” Bash asks.
“No.” I admit.
He huffs out a soft, disbelieving laugh before leading us to the coat check. A moment later, he has his jacket and without hesitation, he settles it over my shoulders. His fingers brush the back of my neck as he gently frees my hair from beneath the collar, and the simple touch sends a shiver straight down my spine.
Outside, the night air hits my flushed skin like a wake-up call, but it does nothing to cool the heat building between us. I take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs, clearing my head just enough to appreciate the moment.
Bash stands beside me, patient.
"So," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that makes my stomach flip. "Where to, Shortcake?"
"My place." I say confidently as I pull out my phone and request an Uber. "Three minutes."
And fuck those three minutes are possibly the longest of my life. We stand on the curb, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. The anticipation is electric, a live wire between us.
The Uber pulls up and we slide into the backseat, and I give the driver my address. As we pull away from the curb, Bash's hand finds mine on the seat between us, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
The ride is mercifully short, but still long enough that the air in the car feels thick with tension by the time we pull up to my building. I overtip the driver in my haste to get out, nearly stumbling in my heels as I lead Bash to the entrance.
My hands shake slightly as I dig for my keys, hyperaware of him standing behind me.
"Need help?" he murmurs, and the amusement in his voice steadies me.
"I got it," I say, triumphantly producing my keys.
We ride the elevator in charged silence, standing closer than necessary. His fingers brush against mine, a gentle back-and-forth that feels more intimate than it should. By the time we reach my floor, my heart is hammering in my chest.
I lead him down the hallway to my door, keys ready this time and as soon as we're inside, everything shifts. The air between us crackles with electricity, and for a moment, we just stare at each other in the dim light of my entryway.
"Your place is nice," he says, glancing around.
