The security guard lets me through because I’m apparently on Silas’s approved visitors list, and when I step inside the building,ay Diosito Santo.
I know Silas has money. It’s fairly obvious from the clothes he wears, from that vintage watch on his wrist that you don’t need to be an expert to recognize costs more than our house,but this is beyond anything I would have expected. The lobby alone is enough to make me feel underdressed. Tawny marble floors stretch from wall to wall, polished to a mirror shine, and above me the ceilings soar high enough that the light fixtures hanging from them look like sculptural installations rather than something anyone actually bought with a budget in mind. A low arrangement of fresh orchids sits on the reception desk, the kind that gets replaced weekly, not because they’ve wilted but because someone here simply prefers them perfect.
When I reach the top floor and stop in front of his door, a thread of doubt works its way in.
What if I’ve misjudged him? What if to him I’m just some unfulfilled fantasy?Oh my Thales, what am I even doing here?
Before I can turn the thought over any further, the door opens, and Silas meets me, dressed entirely in black as usual, but in place of chinos or dress trousers, he’s wearing sweatpants.
His hair is slightly disheveled, those rectangular glasses giving him a more serious look than usual, and I can’t stop the butterflies when I catch his sleeves pushed up to the elbow again.
What is this man’s thing with showing off his forearms?
“Amalia, when you’re done staring at my hands, come in,” he says, and I feel the blush take over what might actually be my brain at this point.
When the door closes behind me, I take a few seconds to take in the apartment. Everything is in tones of brown and green, the kitchen looks genuinely used, judging by the visible spices and utensils, the living room wall is lined with full shelves of books, and in one corner there’s an electric fireplace. On the opposite side sits a poker table, which earns a slight raise of my eyebrows. The entire apartment looks out over La Condesa Park, and I know my eyes are bright when I hear him behind me.
“I don’t know how you drink that sweet poison of yours, but I followed the instructions as best I could,” he says slightly tentatively, his hand moving to the base of his neck.
That’s when I notice that in front of the couch, on a coffee table that appears to be a cross section of a tree trunk, sits a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon.
I can’t hide my smile picturing Silas, who seems like the kind of person who survives entirely on clean food and aggressively green drinks, carefully mixing my hot chocolate and crowning it with a generous swirl of whipped cream.
His blood sugar probably spiked just reading the back of the package.
“Thank you,” I say, a little embarrassed, and move toward the coffee table.
I take the hot chocolate from the table and settle in front of his windows.
Outside it’s overcast, a promise of rain hanging low in the sky, and yet something about this place settles over me like a quiet exhale. His apartment shouldn’t feel this easy to be in. But it does.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him settle to my right, his own mug in hand.
“That’s one of the reasons I chose this apartment. There’s so much green outside that I forget I’m trapped between four walls for ninety-five percent of my time.”
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him honestly, because I can already picture pulling a book off one of those shelves and stepping out onto the balcony with the whole park laid out in front of you and the full expanse of the sky within a single glance.
Up here, you exist somewhere between earth and sky, the canopy of trees spread below like a living floor and the open sky stretching endlessly overhead.
“It is,” he answers, but when I turn toward him, his gaze is on me, not the view we were admiring.
He sighs, and I find a small comfort in the fact that he doesn’t know how to approach this any better than I do.
He takes the armchair, leaving the couch for me. Something about the gesture makes my heart beat a little faster.
Because he’s giving me space and letting me choose how close I want to be.
I could sit in the far corner, or I could sit in the one that would put him right beside me, and when I look at his eyes waiting for my choice, I already know what I’m going to do.
Something close to satisfaction moves through his expression when I settle next to him with my hot chocolate.
“Did you tutor Hugo?” he asks the moment I sit down, and I know he doesn’t miss the slight tension that crosses my face.
“Yes.”
“You know I’m going to fail him regardless of what he scores on that exam, so why are you putting yourself through it?”
“Because not all of us can afford to live in a penthouse above the city, Silas,” I say, more in a sigh than anything else.
