Deniz unlocks his apartment door and pushes it open. The warm, familiar scent of clean linen and faint rose greets us.
I follow him inside, a silent, shivering shadow. My clothes are plastered to my skin, soaked through and ice-cold from the snow.
I can feel the meltwater from my silver hair tracing a cold path down the back of my neck.
I look around. This time, the apartment is spotless—no trace of the late-night disarray from before.
"Deniz," I start, my voice trembling more from the cold than anything else.
He turns, and before I can form another word—
Ah… CHOO!
The sneeze rips out of me, loud and helpless in the quiet space. My cheeks flush instantly with heat.
So much for cool composure.
Deniz's eyes widen. In a flash, he's crossing the space between us, his warm hand closing around my icy wrist.
"Look," he says, his voice laced with a worry that feels like a tangible touch.
