Neither of us notice the arrival of the elevator, just as lost in each other as we have been for endless minutes today until the attendant speaks up, holding the door to usher the few of us now gathered inside.
As instructed, we all do an about-face and turn in the direction of the glass wall at the back of the car. As the attendant begins spouting off facts about the top floor and the car starts to move, I press play on “Dive Deep (Hushed)” by Andrew Belle. Natalie’s reaction is instantaneous as the music begins to play. I feel the shift in her, the vibration and exhilaration rushing to the surface as the Seattle skyline appears while we gradually ascend. Unknowingly, Natalie tightens her hold on my hand, and I turn the music up, drowning out the attendant and the rest of the world around us to emphasize my point.
As we continue to rise, I can feel myself falling further into infatuation with her. In a matter of days, she’s managed to captivate and draw confessions from me that I never saw myself making to anyone, let alone a practical stranger.
When the door opens, I guide her out and onto the slowly revolving floor, away from probing eyes as the soft beat and lyrics work their way into her. Her chest begins to rise and fall as her breathing picks up. A minute later, we’re collectively standing in front of the wall of glass which overlooks the brightly lit cityscape. Opting out of the view, I study her and see her expression soften when the lyrics start to resonate with her. Ignoring the view along with me, she turns to face me, her eyes boring into mine as she falls under the spell, listening intently. Lips parting, she keeps her gaze locked with mine as my heart thrashes in my chest.
Fuck.
I’ve never felt so exposed, so raw with another human being in my entire fucking life. She’s leaving in hours with absolutely no intention of looking back, and I’ve never been so unsatisfied.
Adding to her confusion with my own won’t help her, but it’s not confusion I’m feeling when I stare back at her right now. Everything she’s drawing from me feels imprisoned. If I’m unable to act on any of it, I at least want to relay to her what she’s making me feel, and it’s through borrowed words I’m doing it, which keeps us both relatively safe. That is until she makes safe impossible when she whispers my name, shattering my patience as I will time to slow—to fucking stop, altogether.
Unable to keep from touching her a second longer, I glance around to make sure we’re alone for the moment, then glide my knuckles appreciatively down her cheek. In the next breath, I’m exhaling a groan into her parted lips as she grips the back of my neck, clutching my hair, clutching me to bring me closer.
Because we’re kissing.
Body tensing with the realization, I grip her face and take control. I lose that control just as quickly as I gain it when she presses against me, seeming starved as we furiously explore each other’s mouths. Chest detonating at the feel of her lush, hungry mouth, I grip her chin and thrust my tongue against hers, invading, consuming, taking every second we’re allowed as she kisses me back without an ounce of restraint.
The craving is instant, the hunger unmanageable.
Tilting her head, I feed. She opens further, our mouths fusing naturally. The crack in my chest becomes a gaping wound as I free-fall into what I’m feeling, pouring myself into her, which ignites a crazed need to possess her.
Seconds away from unleashing, but hyperaware we aren’t alone, I crack my eyes as an older couple comes into view at the edge of my periphery. Her moan vibrates in unison with mine as I allow myself a second longer, her hands fisting my hair as she sucks my tongue. My cock twitches in response, forcing me to break our kiss. Pressing my forehead to hers, she slowly opens her eyes, whispering my name with hunger while gazing up at me in confusion as to why I stopped our kiss. I lift my chin toward the couple as she pulls her hands away, eyes dimming considerably while she walks closer to the glass, crossing her arms.
Furious with the knowledge that I got a taste of something I know I’ll be craving for the foreseeable future, I turn and stalk toward the small bar coming into view on the revolving floor and order us two beers. Uncomfortably hard and pissed about the fact that taste was my first and last, I glance back to see Natalie blankly staring into the skyline.
Beers in hand, I approach to see her eyes trained on my reflection and notice she’s watching me intently. Keeping the connection, I walk back to stand next to her, offering the beer to her reflection. She takes it, thanking the man in the glass softly.
“This, here,” she says, nodding toward our clear outlines. “This is where we can…” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to. I gaze back at her in the glass as we both lift our beers to drink, remaining in the only place we’re allowed to be more than figments of our imagination. At least in her mind.
I’ve been wrapped up in her mystery since she went apeshit on me in the parking lot of the bar on day one. Something about this woman is driving me to the brink of insanity, and I’ve loved every minute of it. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but all that matters to me right now is how strong this pull is; though foreign, it feels fucking amazing.
If I could bottle or needle it, I would inject myself regularly, even as its danger presents itself, and despite her warning, it’s lethal.
I want more.
I want her.
Even if I have some idea of how fucked up the situation could get and know this can’t go further than tomorrow, I can’t bring myself to stop imagining something with her on this side of the glass. In this reality. Feeling bitten and battling the venom of her kiss, I only grow more aggravated as the threat of the clock eats away at me.
Kissing her was heaven, but fucking her before she flees from her self-confessed biggest mistake would be a hell I don’t want to sign up for.
I don’t even have to know what it’s like getting that level of personal with her to understand it would draw me further under and maybe alter me more than her sudden presence in my life is starting to. This is no longer just about what she’s missing. She’s starting to make me believe I’m missing something vital too.
Knowing we ended with that kiss, I pull out my cellphone and kill the rock now blazing through her speakers and turn her to face me, forcing her to deal with the reality on this side of the glass, back into the universe we exist in.
Just before we step off the revolving platform, I pull out my cell, open my camera, and focus on our shoes which fit perfectly inside opposing edges of the frame, an inch of the sidewalk far below between our feet, before pressing the shutter. Satisfied with the snap, I adjust the exposure a little before sending it to her via text.
When her phone rattles in her pocket, she pulls it out and opens it, a sad smile lifting her swollen lips. Gently, I push her hair back and retrieve both earbuds before sticking them into their case and tucking them away in her jacket pocket. Her eyes dim as I down the rest of my beer, hoping it will douse some of the racing in my veins.
“I’m so glad I met you, Easton,” she relays softly.
I can’t say the same now, so I guide her off the platform. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
On the way down, I don’t hold her hand and refuse to so much as brush against her as we walk soundlessly to my truck.
When I turn the engine over, she murmurs my name and I ignore it, knowing whatever words she’s devised will come out as some sort of effort to placate me, which is bullshit because she’s battling the same war. The difference is, she’s winning hers.