Declan lifts his bottle in a lazy salute. “Go home, Morrie.”
I shake my head, but I’m already pulling on my jacket.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Rhys calls after me.
“I won’t,” I toss back.
That’s the problem.
The stupid thing would be staying.
Outside, the air is colder than I expect. It hits my face and sharpens me a little, but not enough to erase the buzz under my skin.
I pull out my phone and order an Uber.
The city feels different when you’re slightly tipsy. Lights blur softer. Sounds drift farther away.
The car arrives quickly. I slide into the backseat and give the driver my address.
The entire ride home, I think about her.
When the Uber turns onto my street, my pulse kicks up.
I tip the driver more than necessary and step out.
I fumble with the key when I unlock the door.
It takes two tries.
I push it open and stumble half a step over the threshold.
“Talia?” I call, louder than I intend to.
The house is dimly lit.
Warm.
Home.
“Tal?” I say again, grinning like an idiot.
“In here!” she calls back.
Her voice floats from the living room.
I toe off my shoes messily and head toward the sound.
And there she is.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the easel.
Hair pulled into a messy bun that’s already half-fallen out.
One of my old T-shirts swallowing her frame.
Paint smudged along her wrist and on the side of her cheek where she must’ve brushed it absentmindedly.
She turns slightly at the sound of my footsteps.
