Silas

When I comein from my run, Kat’s standing in the lobby with a cup of coffee in her hand, staring out at the river so hard it looks like she’s trying to lift an X-Wing out of it with the power of her mind. Her knuckles are white around the mug, her shoulders practically by her ears, her whole body strung like piano wire.

Something unpleasant tightens behind my ribcage. I’m still breathing hard and every part of my body feels sticky with the heat and humidity, but the pleasant, loose feeling I had this morning evaporates into the air conditioning as I watch Kat play statue by the window.

This is because of last night.

Because we crossed a line we said we weren’t going to cross, and now Kat’s freaking out.

I pull the bottom of my shirt up to wipe sweat off my face and turn away from Kat to grab some water and some coffee because suddenly, for once in my life, I’m not sure what to say. Things have a way of looking different in the morning when it’s bright outside, and when you haven’t spent an entire day being turned on and frustrated, and when you’re not faking sex noises so someone you don’t like can hear it through the wall.

Yeah, why would anyone feel weird about that? Jesus.

I chug about ten tiny paper cups of water, then pour myself a mug of coffee. Kat stands perfectly still the entire time. She doesn’t even drink the coffee she’s holding, she just… stares. God, I hope she’s not having a panic attack. Here, in the middle of the lobby, with everyone milling around and eating muffins. She would hate that, but there’s nothing to do but go over there and act like everything’s fine, so I do.

“Morni—”

Kat yelps and jumps and almost drops her coffee, splashing it all over herself and the rug, a few droplets getting on me.

“Dammit! Shit. Sorry, I’m—I don’t know.”

“Sorry,” I tell her, already grabbing a napkin from a stack on a nearby table. “I didn’t mean to sneak up—”

“—you’re fine, I should be able to handle it when people say good morning—"

“Here,” I say, hand her some napkins, and take the mug. The coffee’s already soaked into the lobby carpet, and I’m certain it’s not the first coffee to do so. “I’ll get you more.”

I refill her mug, and when I come back the soaked napkins are on a coffee table and she’s staring out the window again, all the cords in her neck standing out. I remember the noise she made when I bit them.

“Incoming,” I call, and she turns her head. Doesn’t smile, but takes the mug and nods a thank you.

And once more, I’m lost for words. It’s the strangest feeling. I know, in the back of my mind, that I should start chatting about the weather or the coffee or the drive home or the ugly fabric pattern on the couches in here, but Kat’s watching me, her whole body singing with tension, and I can’t think of a single thing to say.

“So,” I finally manage, and then stop, and what the fuck? So?

“So,” she echoes. Clears her throat. “You worked out?”

I look down at myself, like I don’t know my shirt is soaked through with sweat, salty rivulets drying on my neck.

“Yeah,” I agree. Great conversation. “I woke up early, and went for a…”

Her eyes flick to something behind me and Kat stands up a little taller, lips tensing.

“…run.”

She doesn’t answer and doesn’t look at me, so I watch her dark eyes go sharp behind her glasses.

“Don’t look at him,” I hear myself say before I even mean to say it. “Look at me.”

She does, with the same flinty, light-something-on-fire glare.

“Quit giving him the satisfaction.”

“Quit telling me where to look.”

But she keeps her eyes on mine, and I sip my coffee slowly, deliberately.

“What’s going on?” I finally ask, some kind of spell broken.

Tags: Roxie Noir Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net