Eliano.
My heart is going wild as I rush toward the door, ready to run out to meet him.
No. No, Salt, you idiot.
Calm down. Breathe. He cannot see how much you care.
Relax. Act like nothing is happening. Easy. Totally easy.
I position myself by the window, leaning back against it, facing the door.
I stare at the panel. A flash of green. The lights come on. He has scanned his card.
The door opens.
I am almost hyperventilating.
He steps inside. The door closes.
Our eyes meet. Fuck. Please do not let me faint. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision. The emotions are overwhelming.
"Hello, Salt."
That low voice, with that faint, barely noticeable Italian accent, I have learned to dig so much.
To my surprise, I notice a red, slightly slanted mark on his face, like a fresh wound just starting to scab over. I swallow hard, but I stay silent. I want to speak, badly, but my throat is locked tight.
My body is fighting me, demanding closeness, demanding I fall into his arms.
I notice his gaze on me, attentive, sliding downward. I see his eyes catch on my nipples, standing out under the thin fabric. On my shameless bulge, already tenting and painfully obvious, betraying me just as much as my pounding heart is.
I cannot take it anymore.
I take a step toward him, but still fight myself.
Eliano takes one step as well. His eyes search for mine.
I take another step.
He does the same.
Three steps separate us now.
I take mine.
He takes his.
One left. I can smell him. It surprises me how clearly I can sense it. Lemon basil… but it is not his shower gel. It is… is that his natural scent? How is it possible that I can smell it so well?
I swallow hard.
We are so close. I see his nostrils flare slightly. Something shifts on his face, surprise, maybe.
"Hello, Eliano," I say quietly.
"How are you, Salt?" he asks, seemingly calm.
"Right now? Better."
