Catherine leaned forward slightly, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of the table. “You like to take risks.”
“And you like to play it safe,” Sloane countered. Her grin turned mischievous. “Opposites attract, right?”
Catherine’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “That remains to be seen.”
As the conversation continued, Sloane turned up the charm. Her words, always playful, now carried an edge of intentionality, a challenge wrapped in teasing warmth.
“You’re a puzzle, Catherine Harrington,” Sloane said, her voice low and almost contemplative. “All sharp edges and hidden corners. I can’t decide if I want to solve you or get cut trying.”
Catherine’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no denying the flicker of intrigue in her gaze. “Careful. You might find something you don’t like.”
“I doubt that,” Sloane replied smoothly. “But I’m willing to take the risk.”
Catherine’s cool façade wavered just enough to reveal a glimmer of amusement. “You seem to enjoy provoking people.”
Sloane leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping. “Only the ones who make it worth the effort. Like you.”
The waiter cleared their table, but neither Catherine nor Sloane seemed inclined to move. The terrace was quieter now, with fewer patrons lingering, their conversations reduced to murmurs against the backdrop of the city below. When Sloane suggested a walk under the stars, Catherine hesitated but she eventually stood, much to Sloane’s surprise.
The terrace opened up into a broader space, the city sprawling beneath them like a living tapestry. String lights overhead swayed gently in the breeze, their golden glow casting long, soft shadows across the stone floor. Sloane led them toward the edge, where the view was uninterrupted. She walked with easy confidence, her hands tucked casually in her pockets, while Catherine followed carefully, her heels clicking softly in the quiet.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sloane said, leaning forward against the railing, her voice quiet but warm. “Something about seeing the city from up here…it feels like anything’s possible.”
Catherine stood a step away, her posture upright and composed. She took in the view, the endless shimmer of lights blending into the night sky. “It’s…a good perspective,” she replied finally, her voice as restrained as ever.
Sloane turned slightly, resting one elbow on the railing as she studied Catherine’s profile. “But you don’t let yourself enjoy it, do you?”
Catherine’s brow furrowed slightly. “Enjoy what?”
“Moments like this. The ones that are quiet and unpredictable. Maybe completely out of your control.” Sloane’s words carried a teasing lilt, but her gaze was steady.
Catherine’s shoulders stiffened. “Not everyone has the luxury of losing control.”
“That’s not a luxury,” Sloane countered, her voice softening. “It’s survival.”
Catherine turned to face her fully, her expression sharp. “You think being out of control is survival?”
“I think letting go is survival,” Sloane replied, undeterred. “Life’s messy, Catherine. The best things happen when you stop trying to control every single piece.”
Catherine’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze flicking away. “And when the mess destroys everything you’ve built?” she asked, her voice quieter.
“Then you pick up the pieces,” Sloane said without hesitation. “And maybe, just maybe, you find something better in the wreckage.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavier than the banter they’d exchanged earlier.
Sloane stepped closer, her movements deliberate but unhurried. “You’re fascinating, you know,” she said, her voicedropping just slightly. “All this armor, but underneath...” She let the sentence trail off, her eyes searching Catherine’s.
Catherine met her gaze, unflinching. “Underneath what?”
Sloane smiled, her hand brushing lightly against Catherine’s arm before settling at her waist. “Everything you’re afraid to let anyone see.”
“You think you have me figured out,” Catherine said.
“No,” Sloane murmured, leaning in closer. “But I’d like to.”
Sloane kissed her because she had a chance to respond. This wasn’t the tentative, exploratory kiss from outside the gallery; it was deeper, more deliberate, a kiss that left no room for pretense. Sloane slid her hands to the small of Catherine’s back, pulling her closer and feeling the tension in Catherine’s body slip away. When Catherine moved her hands to Sloane’s shoulders to anchor her in place, Sloane pulled her impossibly closer.
The world around them seemed to fade, the din of the city, the glow of the lights, the faint breeze—all of it vanished, leaving only the two of them suspended in a moment that, to Sloane, felt both infinite and fleeting.
