Page 57 of Severance

“I’ll take you home if you’re tired.” Dakota’s tone changes when he notices my hesitation.

“I don’t mindseeingyour place,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek. “I just can’t stay over.”

“I’m not asking you to stay over.” He pauses. “I just wanted to show you my apartment. It’s normal for people who are together to know things about each other.”

“We’re together?” I drawl, invisible droplets of pleasure spreading through me.

“Yes.” He nods and leans back in his seat. “I believe we are. I want us to be.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

* * *

I stand in the middle of the large open-concept living room, staring at the walls of posters with my mouth agape. There’s The Cure, HIM, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and more bands I’m not familiar with. A gasp is stuck in my throat and my fingers are clutching the top button of my coat, which I’ve been meaning to take off, but my fascination with the interior has hindered my motor skills.

Turns out, Dakota’s apartment is only ten minutes away from downtown. It’s on the top floor of one of the newer buildings in the Northwest District, and I’m wondering how an event coordinator can afford a place like this.

They say every home has its scent. Dakota’s smells just like him. Old leather and wild sandalwood. It’s a strange blend of music and masculinity that makes me want to know more about him, makes me want to know everything there is.

“Are all these from the printed magazines?” I motion at the posters.

“Most are.” Dakota steps closer and helps me with my coat. “I’ve been collecting all these since I was a kid. They add up over the years.” A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth.

“I can see that.”

“Let me show you the rest.” He places his hand on the small of my back and ushers me in the direction of the long, dark hallway. My heart beats a little faster and I feel my body stiffening under his touch.Is this the part where he’s going to insist on sex?

Dakota slows down and flicks one of the switches on the panel we pass. Bright light spills at me from the ceiling and, somehow, I no longer feel as terrified as I did two seconds ago.

“This is the bathroom,” he explains, gesturing at the door to the left. “This is my room.” He points at the one to the right.

The third door at the end of the hallway remains unnamed.

We stand still and silent, staring at each other, our faces a hair’s breadth apart. My mind’s rushing through all the possible outcomes of my agreeing to come here tonight.

“Do you want something to drink?” Dakota finally asks, lessening the growing tension.

I think it’s highly doubtful he’s brought me here for a glass of water. “No thanks. Can I see your room?” I sound both shy and needy.

“Sure.” He nods. His eyes twinkle like tiny blue stars, and his smile is wide and stunning. He motions for me to follow him.

I’m not sure what to expect when I enter Dakota’s room. I’ve only seen two bedrooms in my entire life besides mine—my parents’ and Jess’s, which don’t count.

I hear a soft click and one of the lamps that looks like a lantern glows blue.

This place belongs to a man. A man obsessed with all things dark. It’s modest in décor, except for the countless posters hanging on the walls—one of Black Rose included—heavy draperies on the windows, and guitar gear occupying one of the corners. Music has touched every crack and crevice here and planted itself into this space indefinitely.

My eyes dart from one item to another, studying each detail carefully, like in a museum exhibit. There’s a black lamp in the shape of a dragon that sits on the nightstand with a set of candles around it and a Toscano bookcase stuffed with CDs and vinyls.

The predominant colors are black and blue. Even the bedding is navy, and I’m wondering if there’s any difference between his sheets and mine. I’m also wondering if I’m ever going to sleep in this bed. I’m wondering so many things that it makes my head spin a little.

“What are these?” I point at the small figures hanging from the ceiling.

“Oh.” Dakota gets a gleam in his eyes. “Watch this.” He returns to the switch panel and the dozen tiny birds flicker above my head.

“What are they?” I gasp, my eyes wide with shock.

“Hummingbirds.” He smiles.

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