I regret breaking the moment, but force myself to mingle again, every instinct protesting that I’m far from her.
I talk to people. I smile. I make jokes. I accept a drink and abandon it after two sips.
All the while, I track her.
She’s doing better than she thinks she is. Talking to a small group and laughing.
But she checks the exits more often now. Her energy’s dipping.
The party thins. Coats come out. Conversations soften. The DJ switches to something slower, mercifully less aggressive.
When I find her again, she’s near the door, coat pulled tight, fingers fidgeting with the buttons.
“Ready to escape?” I ask.
She exhales, relieved. “Very.”
I grab my own coat, and we step outside together.
The cold hits immediately, sharp and clean. Snow dusts the sidewalk, catching in the glow of the streetlights. The city feels hushed now, like it’s settled into itself.
Liz tips her head back, closes her eyes, and takes deep breaths.
“You okay?” I ask gently.
She nods. “Yeah. That was… a lot. But manageable.”
“I’m glad,” I say. “You did great.”
Her eyes meet mine, searching. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” I shift my weight, heart thudding, now that the moment has finally come. The moment when I put it all on the table. “There’s something else,” I say.
Her breath fogs the air between us. “Okay.”
“I have another gift for you,” I continue, keeping my tone light, careful. “A follow-up.”
Her brows lift. “Another?”
“For more stress relief,” I add, lips quirking. “This one’s… private.”
The word hangs between us.
She doesn’t look away.
“I can’t give it to you here,” I say. “But if you’d like… come home with me?”
Her pulse jumps visibly at her throat. She studies me for a beat. “To be clear,” she says softly, “You’re inviting me to go home with you because you want something more than friendship.”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “More than friendship. And a gift.”
A moment stretches while I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
Then she smiles broadly. “Okay,” she says.
I order a ride-share through my app. One thing that Wednesday night parties have going for them is that it doesn’t take long for the car to arrive. I open the door for her, the cold nipping at our heels, and as she slides inside, I know, absolutely, that this is where everything changes.
Not loudly. But deliberately. And exactly the way it should.
