Page 27 of Tempest

“I’ll make us something to eat,” he said, yanking open the fridge. “You like pasta?”

“Wait. How is this place stocked?” I asked.

“I paid extra to have them meet the Instacart driver. Placed an order when I booked the place.”

I nodded, settling onto a bar stool to watch him work. “Pasta is fine. Need any help?”

“Nah, I got this,” Tempest replied, his back to me as he gathered ingredients. “So, tell me about the art project your friend is working on. The one with the motorcycles?”

As I launched into an explanation, the rhythmic sound of his knife on the cutting board punctuated my words. The normalcy of the moment felt surreal after our charged conversation outside.

“Sounds badass,” Tempest commented, glancing over his shoulder with a hint of a smile. “Maybe we can check it out together when she’s finished.”

“I’d love that.” I couldn’t believe he’d remembered that. He’d overheard me telling Owen about it and had asked what we were talking about, but that had been a month ago.

The pasta’s aroma filled the air as we settled onto the couch, plates balanced on our laps. Through the expansive windows, stars winked into existence, mirroring the twinkling lights of distant ships on the horizon. We ate and watched TV, falling into a comfortable silence.

When we finished, we took our plates to the kitchen and rinsed them in the sink before placing them in the dishwasher. Tempest led me over to the sliding glass door again, and we stared out at the night sky.

Tempest’s arm draped around my shoulders, a casual gesture that set my nerves on fire. I leaned into him, relishing his solid warmth.

“You see that constellation? That’s Orion.” He pointed with his free hand.

I squinted. “Where?”

His chuckle rumbled through his chest, and he shifted, stepping behind me, one hand on my arm, the other pointing to the sky again. “Right there, those three bright stars in a row. “And that’s Orion’s Belt.”

As he traced the pattern, I found myself focused more on the rough feel of his fingers than the celestial display. My heart hammered.

“You know a lot about stars?” I asked, desperate to maintain conversation.

Tempest shrugged. “Picked it up along the way. Helps pass the time when I’m on a job.”

Silence fell between us, charged with unspoken possibilities. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore seemed to echo the pounding of my pulse.

“I want you to know --”

I held my breath, torn between hope and fear. He wanted me to know what?

He exhaled sharply. “I respect you. And your family. Whatever this is between us, we take it at your pace. No pressure. But if we decide to do this, to become a couple, your dad is probably going to lose his shit. That’s something we’ll both have to face when the time comes.”

Relief and disappointment warred within me. “I know.”

As the night deepened, exhaustion crept in. Tempest offered his hand. “C’mon, time for bed.”

At my door, he paused. His gaze roamed my face, intense and unreadable. “Goodnight, Kasen,” he murmured, voice rough with restrained emotion.

“Goodnight,” I whispered back, my hand on the doorknob.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

I slipped inside and closed the door, my heart racing. Through the wood, I heard Tempest’s heavy exhale and the soft thud of his forehead against the frame. My fingers hovered over the handle, tempted to throw it open, to act on the spark I felt between us.

But I didn’t.

Tempest’s footsteps retreated down the hall, each one echoing with the weight of unsaid words. I pressed my ear to the door, listening as they faded.

In the silence that followed, I could almost feel him standing there, wrestling with tumultuous emotions threatening to overwhelm me. The air felt thick with anticipation.

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