Warmth radiates from him.He’s so close, yet not touching me.His breath stirs my hair.A silent reassurance.His scent, clean and familiar, mixes with the lingering trace of alcohol on me.Without meaning to, my breathing syncs with his.A slow, steady rhythm calming the frantic beating of my heart.
Slowly, I lift my head, my gaze finding his.
His eyes, dark just moments ago, now hold a flicker of warmth.It’s as if the shared silence has stripped away all anger and pretense.For a long moment, we just look at each other, the world outside fading away.Concern is etched in his expression, a question in those green depths.And something else.Something I can’t quite name that chases away the lingering chill.
“Drive me to the coffee shop?”I ask, unsteady.
A faint smile teases the corners of his lips, amusement dancing in his eyes.“What’s at the coffee shop?”
“I would kill for some coffee,” I say, attempting a light tone, but my hoarse voice still quivers.
He chuckles softly, a low rumble in his chest.“It’s past midnight, love,” he reminds me.
A sharp intake of breath follows the word.
A blush creeps up my neck.
Matthew’s eyes go wide.For a split second, pure, unguarded panic flashes in their depths.He tears his gaze away, the movement jerky, and reaches for the water bottle on the pavement.“I have your water right here.”
Amused by his sudden discomfort, I repeat, my voice a little stronger now.“Coffee, please.I’ll even make you one and throw in a croissant.Or two if you’re extra nice.”
“You’re still feeling that alcohol, aren’t you?”
“Because I am offering you my croissants?!”I gasp in mock offense.
He throws his head back in laughter.
For the briefest of moments, my aching heart swells, remembering what joy feels like.
He shakes his head, still chuckling, but his eyes soften.“While I appreciate the offer, I promise to make you coffee in the biggest mug I own.But please, let’s just go home.”
I narrow my eyes.“Exactly how big is your mug?”
Matthew bursts into laughter again.He grabs my legs and swings them into the car.“Unbelievable,” he mutters between chuckles before shutting the door.
Exhaustion, sudden and overwhelming, washes over me in the quiet safety of his car.
TWENTY FOUR
MY HEAD LOLLS against the headrest, the streetlights flashing past, eyelids heavy.Through the haze of exhaustion, I’m aware of Matthew’s gaze on me, a silent, watchful presence.The music, which has been a low throb in the background, fades to almost nothing.A shiver runs through me, but then, a gentle warmth.A faint whisper of air brushes my skin as Matthew adjusts the heater.
“Car… at club…” I mumble.A sense of peace settles over me, and I close my eyes.
I wake with a start, heart pounding.
The car is stationary, the engine off.
Where are we?
I’m disoriented, my thoughts sluggish.
“It’s okay,” Matthew says softly.“We just got to my place.You fell asleep.”
I blink slowly, struggling to pull his face into focus.The dim glow of the dashboard lights paints him from below, carving his jaw into a sharp angle and leaving his eyes in deep shadow.
The man I know, rendered in a way I don’t.
Familiar and foreign all at once.
