My hands grip his shirt before I realize I’ve moved them there.
Idris exhales against my skin, the sound low. “Em,” he murmurs. “It drives me crazy when you’re in kissing range.”
Heat spreads through my chest, down into my limbs, my pulse quickening where his body fits so naturally against mine. I don’t stop him when his lips nearly brush mine.
I tip my head up. Habit urges me forward. But I turn my face away. “I’m with Lix and Stan now,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says, smiling again. “I assumed as much.”
His smile lingers, but it no longer reaches his eyes the way it did a moment ago. His hand leaves my waist slowly as he steps back.
“I’ll speak with them,” he adds after a moment. “Only if that’s something you want. Only if it feels right to you.”
My head dips into a nod. The motion is small, instinctive, as though the answer had already formed somewhere beneath thought.
His breath catches. He masks it with his soft smile, warmth returning to his eyes. For a second, it looks like he might cross the distance again.
However, his attention drifts to the corner desk. To the pill container resting beside the equipment.
He studies my face as he speaks, as if checking the effect of each word. “You haven’t been taking them,” he says. “But I promise you they’ll help, Em. With the cortisol surges. When your body’s under prolonged stress.”
I step closer and press a brief kiss to his cheek, right below the curve of his cheekbone. It’s a quick thank you more than anythingelse.
“Okay, Idris, I’ll take them.”
The relief on his face arrives fast. He sighs, shoulders lowering.
When I pull back, his fingers lift to touch the place where my lips had been, lingering there as his eyes stay on mine, more black than blue.
But soon, he’s helping me swallow down one pill, while I rest my head on his shoulder, holding onto his arm.
I’ve missed welcoming his warmth this way.
***
The morning passes by quickly after, with Idris telling me about the past week he had. Damon and the Adels managed the crisis by negotiating with many media outlets. In the hundreds, he says. Both local and international. But now, we can expect no news about what transpired on the ship to ever reach the rest of the world.
I ask Idris about Sergio and Gerald. He tells me that it won’t replace their priceless lives, but their families have been generously compensated and were sent further offers of comfort. I’m not sure what the latter means, but I trust Idris to have handled it with care.
“And Jon?” I ask about the surviving victim. “Is he well?”
“Darius has been communicating with him,” Idris answers. “It seems he’s doing okay, especially with the Kys you gave him.”
I breathe out a long sigh of relief that earns a wider smile from Idris.
“You didn’t have to worry, Em.” He stands, helping me up. “But in any case, while we’re here, do you mind showing me around?”
I shake my head, not minding at all while we turn toward the door and into the hall. He falls into step beside me as we walk down the corridor of bedrooms.
As I point out the rooms similarly to how Stan did days ago, he listens closely, occasionally brushing my fingers with his when we turn corners.
When we head toward the dining room, I give him a concise account of my week.
The sounds of staff moving around, setting the table for an early lunch—most likely to welcome Damon, Darius and Idris—are clear even from the other end of the long hallway leading to them.
He stops walking by the time the staff leave the table lined with steaming plates of food and sweating pitchers of chilled drinks.
Idris takes my hands in his and turns to face me. “I missed you,” he whispers with that same smile. “A lot, Em. I never stopped thinking of you, even for a second.”
