Page 84 of Felix

Christian has a smile on his face as he scrolls through his phone. My heart is racing, and for the longest moment, I can’t look away.

I’m one of his favorite places.

If I am a bird, I pray to a higher being I don’t believe in that Christian is one, too. Because for a man who’s never been in love, who’s never dated or had a boyfriend before me, Christian has masterfully stolen my heart.

And if I’m the only one climbing, the only one soaring through the clouds, it’s going to hurt a hell of a lot to realize my heart is still back down on Earth.

Chapter 22

Christian

I had it in my head that relationships meant pain. That they meant inevitable loss.

I know my preconceived notions were skewed because of my mother. Because of what she lost. She never bothered to explain to me the parts that made it worth it. Why she was with my father. Why she loved in the first place.

All I knew was the aftermath. And it wasn’t pretty.

But everything with Emil feels like life. That’s the best way I can think to describe it.

He’s good, and he’s smart, and there’s this vibrant glint of hunger in his eyes that fascinates me. Hunger for knowledge. Hunger, sometimes, for me. When I’m with him, I can almost believe there’s no after. That the now is all that’s important.

Which is why I find myself stalled in front of a bolt of fabric I’ve walked past time and time again, thinking, for the first time, of buying a few yards. Emil is standing next to me, looking at a distressed denim. After a moment, he notices I’m not moving.

“You like that one?” he asks.

I nod, running my fingers along the outer edge of the fabric, where the embroidered flowers become thickest before ending. It’s an extravagant pattern, meant to be a showstopper. I’ve never had a reason to buy it before, not considering the ridiculous cost. But last week, after acing the exam I knew he would, Emil helped me look into some of the regulations for selling clothes. And now…now I can’t stop dreaming up these designs in my head. And every time, I think about this fabric. About what it could be.

“You should get some,” Emil says. “It’s gorgeous.”

I look over just in time to catch his encouraging smile. When I hold up the tag so he can see the cost, his eyes widen a bit.

“Okay, so that’s kind of expensive…” he starts.

“That’s the cost for one yard,” I clarify.

Emil makes a choked sound. “Shit.”

“Mhm.”

He nudges up his glasses before touching the fabric, his fingers drifting over the flowers delicately. The same as when he touched Bernie, I feel a flash of heat rush through me. Maybe because I want those fingers on me? Maybe because I know what they can do. I know how much Emil seems to love my skirts. How he likes to drag them out of the way and tell me to watch him while he drives me wild. How, sometimes, he likes me to fuck him in them.

I grab the bolt of fabric and tuck it under my arm. Emil gives me a grin.

Before heading to the cutting counter, I grab a few other supplies. A long zipper. Some tulle to create volume. Since the base of the fabric is white, I stick with that, already envisioning a simple yet structured crop top to complement the skirt.

“When’s the awards ceremony?” I ask Emil. Nathaniel mentioned it to me, saying they’d appreciate for all of the performers to be there, even though surely I won’t win anything, new as I am.

“Right before New Year’s,” he answers.

Plenty of time.

When we reach the counter, I set my haul on top. It physically hurts, watching the employee cut into the embroidered fabric, knowing the cost of such a cut. But it feels good, too. Like growth, maybe. Healing.

“I, uh… I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Emil says, a hint of nerves in his voice.

“The answer will probably be yes,” I tell him before thanking the employee who hands over my fabric, along with the slip to pay up front.

Emil huffs a laugh. “Are you that certain I won’t ask for something outlandish?”

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