Silas’s expression hardens, the warmth that was in his eyes moments ago disappearing. His gaze shifts into something deeper, heavier. “Yes,” he says quietly. “I regret not being honest about my feelings when I was younger and making you pay for it.”
I drop my eyes to my hands, twisting my fingers under the table. The sudden intensity of the conversation makes it impossible to meet his gaze.
“I deeply regret torturing you like that,” he continues. “Believe me when I say there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t wish I could go back in time and—” he pauses, voice dropping to a near-whisper— “shoot myself in the head for treating you so terribly.”
My head snaps up, shocked by the starkness of his words. Anyoneelse would’ve said they wished they could go back to make things right, butSilas Walker? He’d rather end himself than change the past. “Silas, don’t say that,” I whisper, reaching across the table, instinctively taking his hands in mine.
“Because of me, you ended up in the hospitaltwice,” he says, shaking his head, frustration etched into every line of his face.
“You weren’t responsible,” I say, my voice firmer now. “We all make our own choices.Mattmade his.”
“Lauren,” he sighs, “don’t defend me. I don’t deserve it. I was always an idiot.”
“But not now,” I counter, trying to find a way to pull him out of this.
His gaze meets mine, the weight of his regret pressing down on us both. “Especially now,” he says firmly.
I can’t bear to stay on this path, so I force a change of subject, trying to lighten the mood. “Tell me something nice you remember about me,” I say, offering a small smile. “Show me who you really were when you looked at me.”
He snorts as if the question is laughably easy. “I remember your smile,” he begins softly, his eyes lingering on our entwined hands, his thumb gently brushing over mine. “That quiet, beautiful smile you'd give when someone praised you like you weren’t sure you deserved it. It lit up your face for just a moment before you hid it like you were afraid to show the world how radiant you really were.”
His voice lowers, filled with warmth. “I remember how focused you’d get at the café—how you'd prepare your reading time like it was a secret ritual. And those big headphones you always wore in school, making you look so serious, more mature than you were. You have no idea how many times I stared at you, wondering what you were thinking about, how you managed to drown out the world so easily.”
He leans in a little, his gaze locking with mine. “I remember your voice—how it could calm a room. And the perfume you made in chemistry class.” He smiles. “God, the way it smelled. Sweet and warm, like you. I carried that scent with me for weeks. I stole one of your samples,” he adds with a smile.
His eyes trace my face, almost reverently. “And the way you walked, Lauren,” he continues, his voice barely a whisper now. “You never noticed, but I did—how your hips swayed down the halls of Willow High like you owned the space without even trying. Every step you took had me captivated.”
His eyes are full of something deeper now, a raw intensity. “I remembereverythingabout you, Lauren. Every little detail. How could I forget?”
Silas
We're back in the concrete jungle, with a cacophony of blaring horns, people yelling, and New Yorkers speed-walking like they're in an Olympic event. It's two days until the end of the year, and everyone’s acting like time’s about to run out on them. Do I look like that too? Like a headless chicken, running around with no clue what I’m even chasing?
I glance at Lauren from the corner of myeye, and it hits me—this is the first time all week I’ve felt even remotely relaxed. And, of course, it’s because of her. No surprise there.
The last three days without her? Complete agony. Everything is in slow motion—day, night, didn’t matter. I wander around my place like some sad ghost, just floating aimlessly, waiting for her to come back and bring me to life again like she’s my personal defibrillator. With every passing second, I could almost feel Lauren's mind racing a thousand miles away from me, slipping through my fingers.
But walking side by side down Fifth Avenue, I don't feel that distance anymore. It’s strange—comforting even. We’re heading straight for the parking garage where I left the Mercedes, and Lauren’s quiet, lost in her thoughts. Meanwhile, the urge to take her hand or pull her under my arm and hold her close is pulsing through me like my heartbeat.Damn, I want these things—needthese things—and we haven’t even slept together yet. What the hell is going on with me? We reach the car, and I open the door for her. After my little confession earlier, we both stayed locked in contemplative silence, processing it all. A lot was said, but this time, there wasn’t that fire, that intensity of wanting to rip each other’s clothes off. And that gives me another thought. Am I … in love? Maybe Luca's right. Maybe I’ve always been in love with her, and I was just too stubborn to see it.
As I settle into the driver's seat and start the car, I stop when I think I hear her speak.
“Silas?”
“Yeah?” I say, looking at her out of the corner of my eye, filled with a sense of dread.
“Take me to your apartment.”
My heart’s pounding harder with every floor as the elevator carries us up to my apartment.
Get a grip, you damn virgin.
Lauren’s unusually quiet, staring at the floor, gripping her bag like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. The sexual tension is thick enough to choke on, and I know I should say something, anything, but I’m frozen. Damn it. I’ve wanted this since I was seventeen—so why do I suddenly feel like a nervous teenager all over again? The doors slide open, and we step directly into my place, which suddenly feels way smaller and less impressive than it should. No sleek furniture or expensive decor can help me now, because this isn’t just a one-night stand. This is the beginning of something I want more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Something I’ll fight for. I want Lauren in my life.
Forever.
But here I am, metaphorically naked, in front of the one woman who’s got me by the balls.
How poetic, Silas.
