He pulled me with him through a narrow passage and onto the next street over.
It was different here. Back entrances to shops. Dumpsters. Side doors leading into apartment buildings. Hardly anyone around.
Wait a minute, had he just taken my hand...?
I needed a second to recover.
"Um... why exactly did we need somewhere quieter?" I said, trying to sound casual.
He shrugged lightly. "It's nicer to talk without shouting, isn't it?"
Talk. Right.
But the second we turned here, our barely-started conversation died, and we were walking in absolute silence again.
Maybe since I was the one who'd suggested this walk, I was supposed to keep the conversation going.
To be honest, I had no idea what the rules were in situations like this, so I pulled together whatever nerve I had left and opened my mouth—
Suddenly, he grabbed my hand again.
This time, he tugged me into a dead end. A small pocket of shadow barely big enough for two people to stand in comfortably.
He stepped in after me, and his body blocked the way out completely.
Before I could even process what had happened, I heard voices. A group of men passed by the mouth of the alley. So close that I could hear the cadence of their laughter as they moved on.
I blinked at Ed. "What was that about?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes followed the men until they were gone. Then he slowly turned back to me.
At that moment, I realized that we were so close that I could see the flecks of color in his irises, the way his lashes caught the dim light.
His hand was still on my hand. And his other hand… it rested lightly against my waist.
My heart nearly exploded.
"Your reaction," he murmured, his lips tilting in the faintest of smiles, "is adorable."
I swallowed, my voice barely working. "What reaction did you expect when you grabbed someone like that out of nowhere?"
His smile deepened. Electric silence stretched between us. Every nerve in me buzzed, screaming at me to move… or to close the distance.
I didn't step back.
Instead, I moved closer. Slowly сlosing the space between us inch by inch until our noses were nearly touching. I looked at him and thought, with a startling clarity, that this was what I'd been waiting for all day.
He lifted a hand and brushed it through my hair, tucking a loose strand behind my ear. His fingers lingered there, grazing the elastic of my mask.
"It's rather warm tonight," he said quietly. "Must be hard to breathe in that thing."
It was hard to breathe. But I doubted the heat was the real reason.
"Breathing," I echoed, my voice hitching despite myself. "Yeah. Breathing is… hard."
The fact that his hand slid away from my face and settled at my waist again did nothing to slow my breathing. Nothing at all.
I needed air...
My fingers found the edge of the mask and began to pull it down slightly.
It was a strange moment, one where nothing else seemed to matter. Not where we were. Not what we were doing. Just us.
I wanted the mask gone. Desperately.
More firmly, I slid it off my nose and down to my lips. It kept lowering, inch by inch, and his gaze never left my face. He watched me closely, as if committing every detail to memory.
His breath was on my skin.
We got so close to each other that a little more and we…
A loud horn blared from the street, breaking the moment.
I jolted back, heart hammering in my ears. He pulled his hands away and straightened.
For a beat, we both stood there, as if waking from the same dream.
Then he tilted his head. "Are you getting tired?" he asked.
"What? Uh—no, I'm fine." I managed.
He kept looking at me for another second, then smiled. "That's odd. Looking at your face, it doesn't seem that way to me. Although perhaps it's because it's gotten a bit warmer in here."
I touched my face and realized I was burning up.
"Yeah... I guess it is pretty hot today."
"Well then," he said, "I suppose I should take you home."
Already?
A heavy, sticky disappointment settled in my chest, but I couldn't think of anything that could keep us in this moment for much longer.
"Okay," I said, pulling my mask back into place.
As we walked toward his car, I noticed something had shifted.
Only a few minutes ago, it'd been like the world around us had disappeared, and we'd been standing on the edge of something inevitable. And now the tension between us was almost physical.
When we reached the car, I asked, "Where did you take me?"
"The bar," he said.
That unpleasant feeling twisting inside me made me realize I'd been hoping for something else.
Was that it? Was the walk already over? A short drive, and we'd go our separate ways, and… that would be it?
Even if that was the case, there was nothing I could do about it. So I stayed quiet and got into the passenger seat.
Thank God there was no driver today.
If there had been someone else in the car, it would've been too awkward. As it was, it was already bad enough.
We drove without speaking. And all that time, I was replaying every single step in my head.
Maybe I had done something wrong. Something that explained why I was on my way to the bar.
Had I crossed an invisible line or broken some unspoken rule? Or I'd pushed too far? Misread something? Hurt him?
No. I hadn't done anything wrong.
He was probably just tired. The day must've been long for him, and he still had a thousand things to do. Emotions, stress — all of it. It wasn't my fault.
He pulled up by the bar and stopped. I stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Before I could say anything, he looked at me, his face softened, and a barely noticeable sadness reflected in his eyes.
Or maybe it was all in my imagination.
"That suits you," he said quietly. "You should wear T-shirts more often."
"Yeah," I replied, unsure what to do with the heat that crept back into my face. "Thanks."
"Well," he said after a moment, "I should go."
I nodded. "Have a good day."
The car pulled away, the sound of the engine fading as it disappeared down the street, leaving me standing there alone.
*** *** *** *** ***
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