9|Hypothetically

There’s a sudden dark cloud looming over our once kind of romantic dinner.

Elijah’s lips were pressed into a thin line, eyes trained on me. His hold on his glass was so tight it seemed that it’ll break any moment now. From the folded sleeves of his flannel shirt, I got a glimpse of how the veins in his arms were popping out.

“Elijah.” I tried to say his name, and it felt like everything fell in its right place.

Me and him, staring at each other. I’m losing myself in his eyes. They’re so expressive, as if they’re telling me something he couldn’t say in words. Everything around me became trivial, the noise of the people ordering drinks in the bar; the couple arguing about where to go on their summer vacation by the booth next to us; they all faded in the background.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, feeling the dire need to moisten my drying pipes under the intensity of his eyes.

“Your eyes,” I murmured, almost a whisper.

I wasn’t sure if he heard me, but then he replied, “what about them?”

“I’ve seen them before.”

There was a swift whip of air that passed through my face, caressing my skin. It was warm and strong, the wisp of air; just like in my dreams; the same one followed by the watchful silver eyes. It was enough for the flame on the fireplace to hiss wildly, lapping out of the brick encasing it.

Elijah stood up so abruptly that it startled me. “It’s late. I should drive you home.” The warmth in his voice was long gone, replaced by a commanding tone that had my confidence cowering away like a turtle forced to hide back in its shell.

He didn’t wait for my response. Stepping out of the booth, pulling a few bills from his wallet, dropping them on the table. I followed him out of the pub, barely slipping my coat on while he just crossed the parking lot, clutching his coat with one hand.

I was contemplating whether it’s safe for me to get a ride from him. It was pretty obvious that he was pissed. I didn’t mean to ask and say those strange things. Usually, I have complete control over the things I say, but they spill out casually.

I debated on calling an Uber, but when I saw Elijah holding the passenger side door open, waiting for me, I mustered the strength to be in a confined space with him for another twenty minutes. How I wish I carried my gun with me. I’d feel a little better when I’m armed with a gun than a dagger.

The drive was spent in utter silence. I couldn’t even scold Elijah for driving over the speed limit, as if he can’t wait to get rid of me. When we reached my apartment building, he remained seated in the driver’s seat with a passive look on his face. I slid out, thanking him, saving both of us from the awkwardness that my curiosity created.

He said no words in return, keeping his gaze ahead so I didn’t look back as well. So much for hoping that this will turn out to be something good, that he’s different from all the men I went out with. In fact, he is worse than them. At least they put an effort into pretending to enjoy my company, walked me up to my door, and bid me goodnight. Elijah didn’t even bother to say goodnight to me.

I have to admit, his actions hurt me in ways a stranger shouldn’t.

‘Did I really screw up big time for him to act that way?’

‘Probably,’ the small voice in my head annoyingly answered.

I reached my door with slumped shoulders, slipped in the key to open it, twisting the knob but a hand came to stop me from doing so.

I glanced to my right and Elijah was there, a remorseful expression on his face. I haven’t even heard him come up to me, making me gasp at his sudden appearance on my side.

“I’m sorry,” he said, letting my hand go.

I shook my head, swallowing hard. “It’s my fault for making things weird, saying those weird things. I’m usually not so upfront like that. It’s just that…” I realized I was talking too much again. The secret I’m keeping - the dreams - I almost voiced it out.

He took a step forward. I let go of the knob and stepped back. With a determined step, Elijah invaded my personal space until my back was against the wall beside my door.

“Just what, Rory?” he breathed, jaw tense. The veins on his neck are practically on the brink of snapping.

I should be scared of him. He’s a lion taunting its prey, and I have nowhere to go. He was in front of me, hands coming up, fencing my arms frozen on my side.

I shook my head, praying for my brain to do what it’s supposed to do and not act like a derailed train.

His eyes softened, roaming around my face. I swear I can practically feel his gaze caressing my skin. It started in my forehead as if he was tracing the edge of my hair down to my cheeks. I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth his gaze was providing as it evens out the cold wall behind me.

‘What the hell is happening to me?’

“Rory…” he whispered. I gasped at the touch of his warm breath against my cheeks. When I opened my eyes, his silver hues were glowing. It’s a wonder since the overhead lights in the hallway were behind him, shadowing his features. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I can’t read you.”

Funny how it goes both ways. It’s usually so easy to figure out people. I had to be in my line of work. But this man intrigued me in ways no one ever did before.

“This night…” I whispered, “... I was hoping it would end differently. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He smirked, eyes dancing with amusement. “I’m not upset. I’m frustrated with myself.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been on my head since we first met. I want to know you, be around you… Protect you.”

His admission held me speechless. The sincerity as he spoke sliced through my chest. The more he says, the more I’m confused and lost.

He seemed to realize how bizarre his words were. He pulled away, giving me enough space to breathe, but not enough for my mind to function properly. The goosebump on my clothed arm, while his bare hands remained bound on my side, is crawling up to my entire body.

“Hypothetically, how do you wish to end this night?” His eyes trailed down the slope of my nose, down to my lips and back up to meet my eyes, hypnotizing me to confess what’s inside my head.

“You’ll walk me up to my door…” I gulped loudly while he watched my throat bobbed up and down. “And I’ll invite you in for one glass of wine… since you’ll be driving. We’ll talk some more and when the night falls deeper, I’ll walk you out of my door. I thought of you making a move to kiss me. It’ll be awkward at first. We’ll laugh about it but then we’ll try again, only this time, you’ll hold me by my neck, tip my chin and claim my lips with passion until we lose our breath.”

My senses were aware of the thickening air between us as I uttered each word. His breathing and mine were speeding up like race cars aiming to reach the finish line.

“Hypothetically, of course,” I added, sensing the inferno of embarrassment blooming on my cheeks, spreading fast on the entirety of my skin.

I’m sure Eloisa would be proud of the boldness I just put up, but I am not. Definitely not.

I deserve an award for screwing every chance I had with this man. Now that he’s just gazing down at me with glazed-over eyes, all I want to do is hibernate and come out after ten years.

“I should probably-”

“Invite me in.”

We said at the same time.

“What?”

“Invite me in. Let me make up for the night, Rory.”