Chapter 76: Chapter 76
Real silence stretched between them.
Amara played with the rim of her glass. Elias didn’t look away from her, but he didn’t press either. He just sat there, like a man used to watching people leave.
She finally said, "Do you always tell strangers things that deep?"
She felt a bit inspired by just sitting here with him. She felt the fog from her writer’s block clearing gently.
His eyes held hers for a second longer than she expected.
"Only the ones who look like they’re trying not to disappear."
Her breath caught.
She looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. Her fingers tightened around the stem of the glass.
He picked up the napkin she’d dropped earlier and laid it neatly on the bar. "Thank you for sitting with me," he said, his voice softer now, like he meant it.
"You didn’t do much talking," she replied, fluttering her lashes with an equal amount of flirtation and innocence.
"Didn’t need to," he said. "You did the heavy lifting just by staying."
She found herself smiling faintly.
The bartender returned to swipe away the empty glass, and Elias stood. He reached into his pocket and drew out a small card. There was no name on the card, just a number.
"If you ever want to talk again," he said, placing it gently in front of her, "or just sit in silence with someone who won’t ask too many questions."
She looked down at it. Then up at him. She has hated men since her last boyfriend back in high-school. He had done her so dirty that she refused to give any other man a chance.
She eyed him, with an equal amount of softness and coldness in her eyes. "You always carry around blank cards?"
His mouth twitched. "Only when I don’t want to be found."
Amara stared at the card.
She should leave it there. She should finish her drink and disappear like she always did when people got too close.
That was the safest move. That one move had always kept her from being disappointed, from being misunderstood, or from being cracked open in all the wrong places.
This would be the worst of crimes if she let this man move into her mind. She wanted to leave him, and she needed a reason.
But then again, safety never helped her write. Pain did. Curiosity did. So did late-night mistakes.
She reached for the card. She wasn’t thinking right now, and she already imagined writing a story out of this.
"So, what happens if I do call you?" she asked, her voice lazy, smoky with disinterest she didn’t fully feel.
Elias tilted his head slightly. "Then I guess I’d answer."
Amara laughed once. Her laugh was low and disbelieving, like she had expected something more. What made him think she’d leave her house, and call Jim just because she needed what he said?
"That’s it?" She questioned.
"That’s it."
A beat passed.
She grabbed her clutch from the counter and stood. Her drink was half-finished. Her dress shimmered ever so slightly under the dim light, clinging to her curves like a whisper.
"Walk me out?" she asked.
He nodded, stepping beside her. The bar door swung open into the thick summer night air, warm and sticky against her skin.
They walked in silence to the curb where her car was parked. His presence beside her didn’t feel rushed. It felt measured.
His presence was extremely respectful, yet carried weight. The weight didn’t stop her from feeling completely relaxed with him. Slowly, she felt her guard dropping.
She turned to face him under the streetlight. Her expression was unreadable as she dragged out the dark mind of a writer in her, to study his expression.
"You lied earlier," she said suddenly.
Elias blinked, caught off guard. "About what?"
"About not knowing if your line works. That wasn’t the first time you said it."
He didn’t deny it. He just smiled slowly, and said, "Maybe I wanted it to sound like the first time."
That did something to her.
She stepped closer.
He didn’t move. He didn’t even reach for her, yet he worried if he was doing it right. His eyes flickered briefly to her lips, then back to her gaze. A crackle of tension bloomed in the air, thick and electric.
"You’re not going to try and kiss me?" she asked, tilting her head, coy.
"No," he said. "I was waiting for you to kiss me."
Amara rolled her eyes. The guts of this man. He seemed to match her poison greatly, and this made her want to touch his face more before he walks away.
Then she did.
She kissed him.
She placed one hand on his chest, and the other curled into the lapel of his jacket. Her lips met his softly at first, and almost hesitant.
But when he responded, when his hand ghosted over her waist, she deepened it—with heat, with hunger, with that dangerous mix of curiosity and recklessness that always got her in trouble.
She never dated anyone for years now, but she had had one night stands randomly, and tonight, she was hungry. She needed some drugs.
Elias groaned softly, pressing her against the side of her car, with his mouth moving against hers with increasing intensity. There was restraint in him. She could feel it. It was almost trembling.
He wanted more. He thought she did too.
And then, she pulled away coldly.
Just like that, she heartlessly left him breathless.
Elias stared at her, dazed.
She fixed the strap of her clutch, smoothed her dress, and smiled.
"Thanks for the drink," she said, her voice honeyed and smug with a soft smile at the edge of it.
He blinked. "You didn’t finish it."
"Didn’t need to," she said, echoing his earlier words.
Then she stepped into her car, closed the door, and left him standing there.
He stood there, visibly hard, frustrated, and wanting. She left him with nothing but the ghost of her lips and the echo of her laugh in the humid night air.
She intentionally left him with the knowledge that he was going to want her long before she ever wanted him back.