“They seem suited for one another, in a weird way. They're well matched.”
I feel Vlad's hand tighten over mine at my comment, and then release just enough, as if it hadn't happened at all.
I don't know how to begin to ask him if something is wrong, before he lets go of my hand, standing and casually exiting to the hall.
My heart pounds in my chest, counting several moments. Or maybe just a few seconds. Janice calls something teasing to Lily about PDA, and Lily sends a quick gesture back in return. I feel somewhat removed from it all, and even the music sounds distant.
I swallow and push off the seat again, scooting out the long way around a table to follow after Vlad.
As soon as I step into the hallway, I see the doorway to the rooftop not quite closing behind him. It's at least ten degrees cooler outside on the roof, and jarringly quiet.
The silhouette of Vlad against the night sky is unmistakable, the light from the moon carving out the details that feel so completely him. The wide stance, the close-tucked wings, tail flicking to echo his thoughts. He’s chosen a spot on the far side of the roof, one hand above his head against a billboard’s scaffolding as he leans against it, swirling a glass of some liquor in the other as he contemplates his view.
He looks back when the door swings shut behind me, and sees me, fully creeping on him. He tips his glass to me, and I tilt my head just enough to acknowledge it.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
We haven't been alone together like this since the fight. The privacy feels almost suffocating. The weight of his stare is almost too much to bear. I drop my eyes to the gritty cement of the roof, watching the stillness of his tail.
That sight opens up the dam in me. I start rambling everything I've been holding in all at once.
“I'm sorry I yelled. And, basically, for every part of what happened. I got a little too much in my own head, and I wasn't really mentally available to deal with anything—”
Vlad looks like he wants to cross to me but doesn’t let himself. “Gwen, no. You don't have to explain. I’m sorry I made you feel burdened by my expectations.”
“No, you gave me a wonderful compliment, and I wish I had been able to really receive it. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that,” I tell him earnestly. “I don’t really let anyone in. I haven’t in so, so long. I’ve forgotten what it means to have a deep connection with someone, that their mere presence in your life can make you want to be better. And you...”I trail off. I can feel the weight of the moment, what it means to put myself out there, put my feelings on the table, exposed and vulnerable. He could reject them as easily as I had rejected his, and he would have every right to. I swallow, feeling myself lock up and start to hedge.
“I'm just glad to know everything is ok between us,” I tell him.
It feels a little like a lie. I'm honestly very stressed that it might stay like that. Merely being ok might be as cruel a fate as thinking he hates me.
I would have said yes, I want to tell him. I need to. Maybe that's too much to pack into this moment, but I know I have to tell him.
“When you asked if I'd ever come back to your lair,” I start to press lightly on the sensitive subject. There isn't a good way to ask someone to open their heart back up to you after you've rejected them. “I wish I'd been in the right mind to give you a thoughtful answer. But if...”
He gives his head a little shake, and I press no further.
“You've given me a lot to think about...I don't know that I've seen enough of you,” he says, a faint smile gracing his face.
The muted pulse of music and laughter from behind the karaoke booth's heavy door is numbing when my body is itching for something more definite.
Normally, I file away this kind of sensation for therapy, but I don't think I can.
Well, I got what I came here for. I apologized. And I think he accepted it. It still feels like a loss. I'm not ready to return to the party, to plaster on a smile I don't mean, but I don’t know what else to do right now.
Fuck it, show him your tits.
“You need to see more of me? Watch me,” I tell him. Ironically, this is a much more comfortable option than karaoke, I should have just led with this. There are only so many times I can dodge that intrusive thought anyway.
Being weird seems to have been the one thing that's really ended up working for me, anyway. And if there's a better way to express how deeply devoted and loving you feel towards someone than being weird in his general direction, well, then, I wouldn't know about it.
I turn my face away, but my attention remains on him, and what I can show him. My hands trace casually down my body from my collarbone, pulling apart all the tiny buttons that hold the top of my dress together. Biting my lip, I dare a glance, first down to the unaware traffic below us, and then the statue-like figure blending into the architecture of the building’s roof line.
If I'm not mistaken, his glass has found the floor, and his hands are curled tight at his sides.
My teeth worry into my lower lip, appreciating the way he stands back and puts his hands into his pocket, emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders.
