Page 92 of Severance

“I’m serious. Did he ever tell you anything? He’s spreading fucking rumors. I can bet you a hundred bucks we lost the summer residency gig because of him.”

I’m not sure what exactly the conversation is about anymore. I stand in my spot and don’t dare to interrupt, like one wrong move might somehow destroy this tender moment between them. Instead, my eyes sweep over the interior of Mikah’s room. He’s really not good at keeping his private space clean or organized. There’s stuff everywhere. Clothes, guitar picks, magazines, tools. It’s like a little testosterone showroom. There are fewer bands posters on the wall than Dakota has, but there’s a huge abstract painting hanging over his bed and a small shelf with a few dozen books, the titles of which I can’t make out. Somehow, I didn’t peg him as the reading type.

“I’m telling you the food was shit.” Mikah exhales slowly.

Dakota glances at me over his shoulder as if I have a solution. My brain struggles to think of something less extreme than taking him to the ER. It might be all the excessive alcohol and they’ll end up with the huge hospital bill because of a false alarm. “Maybe we can put a trash can next to his bed,” I offer.

Dakota nods, still on the floor with Mikah’s boot next to him. “There’s an extra one in the closet by the bathroom.”

“Sure.” I step through the doorway and check the closet, and then I run to the kitchen to grab some plastic bags and paper towels. All of this in the dark because the only source of light in the apartment is the floor lamp in the living room, and I’m too dazed to worry about switches and other minor details. When I return to Mikah’s room, Dakota’s managed to get the second boot off. He rises to his feet and moves them out of the way while I stuff the bags into the trash can and set it next to the bed.

“I think he’s good.” Dakota reaches for my hand and pulls me aside gently.

“You sure it’s okay to leave him alone?” I glance at Mikah. My voice drops to a whisper. “What if he chokes on his own vomit? I read about it online. People die like that.”

“He’ll be okay.” Dakota shakes his head, a hint of a smile tugging the side of his mouth. “He’ll sleep it off and be like new in the morning.”

“You’re positive?” For some reason, a tiny part of me is concerned when it shouldn’t be.

“She’s a keeper…that one,” Mikah mumbles, his eyes closed. “If you fuck it up, little brother, I will whoop your ass myself.”

I don’t understand why, out of all things, he chooses to talk about me. In a way, it bugs me, but I don’t say anything.

Dakota and I walk out of the room in silence. He shuts the door carefully and turns around to face me. His eyes search mine and he inches forward to close the space separating us. His body, strong and solid, gently pushes me against the wall. He slips his hand under my coat and glides his palm up the curve of my waist. Goose bumps pucker my flesh and I feel a pool of heat gathering between my legs. My cheeks begin to burn; my breathing becomes unsteady.

A faint stream of light drifting into the hallway from the living room touches only a small portion of Dakota’s face, leaving the rest in the darkness.

“I’m glad you came,” he says quietly, his lips teasing my temple. “I know it was a little disappointing toward the end.” A light chuckle leaves his mouth, his hot, velvety breath spreading across my skin.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t that bad.”

Dakota slides his hand to my neck and tangles his fingers in my hair. “I really want you to stay tonight.” He presses against me, molding me to the wall. It’s a pleasant kind of force. Right on the edge of dangerous, where I can feel all of him—hard in all the hidden places.

My heart slams into my ribcage. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out because there’s a battle going on inside my head. Although I want to say yes, my logical side knows it’s a bad idea.

Sensing my panic, he pulls back a bit and his face softens. “You don’t have to say yes. I just wanted you to know I’d like that… I’d like to spend tonight and every other night after that with you… Because you’re perfect.”

He’s not making much sense and I wonder if it’s because he’s drunk or because he just doesn’t care to filter his thoughts, but every single word is like kryptonite for me. All my walls are down and he’s broken through my defenses.

“I’m not perfect,” I mutter, my voice shaking.

“You’re perfect for me,” he counters, and his lips spread into a smile. “And I’m falling for you so fucking hard. I’ve never felt this way with anyone else.”

Swallowing nervously, I reach out for his face and brush my fingers over the cleft in his chin. He’s stunning. Like an antique work of art. I want to dive into his eyes and bathe in his generous warmth.

“I think I may be falling for you too.” My whisper is barely there because I’m not sure if what I’m saying is the right thing. This—expressing my feelings for a man—is uncharted territory for me. He and I seem like we’re an eternity apart. When I think of myself five years from now, I imagine a different version of Alana. Educated and refined. Someone who Dakota would probably like much more. What he sees in me with my eighteen years of life inexperience is a mystery to me. I feel like my attempt at navigating through adulthood is similar to a child’s attempt at learning how to walk.

We still briefly, and the air between us begins to vibrate.

Dakota brings his mouth to mine and kisses me on my lips slowly and carefully. His taste, mint with a pinch of liquor, is like sin. A cocktail of light and dark, making me drunk in my own way. His tongue does despicable things to mine, and I want him to keep kissing me like this until the world—with its prejudice and obstacles all around us—melts away.

When we’re both out of breath, we break apart, our hands and eyes lingering on each other, touching and memorizing.

“You still want to go home?” Dakota asks, running his fingers through my hair.

“I don’t, but I should,” I confess.

“Okay.” He nods. “Let me get us an Uber.”

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