Page 18 of Faithful

“Yes.” I kick off my sneakers and follow him, my pulse skyrocketing.

He spins around and grabs at my shirt and it’s so unexpected, I don’t even get a chance to react before his lips press against mine.

My mouth yields instantly, melting into the kiss. My scent blends with his and my hands wrap around his waist to draw him closer.

We stand like that in the middle of my living room, exchanging hot breaths and undeclared desires for the longest time. It’s simple, almost elementary, without the weight of the world. Just the sensual joining of lips, the slide of tongues, the whisper and stretch of fabric under our fingertips, the slow movement of rib cages and heartbeats that seem to be working in sync.

“I thought you wanted space,” I mutter when I come up for air. I know it’s not something you should say in a moment like this, but I can’t help it. I’m still lost in the enigma of him, in all of his contradictory statements and behavior.

“I did,” Kai replies, reaching for my mouth, his thumb brushing the corner of it, then slowly moving to my chin. “I’m done now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He kisses me again. This time it’s brief. A reminder of what we are, of what’s going on between us.

“You’re hungry, right?” I ask as I extract myself from his personal space.

“Maybe.” He smirks. “Don’t you want to show me the place first?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs softly, then takes off his boots and his coat, and I give him a quick tour of the apartment. We don’t look at Leigh’s room since it’s off-limits and I leave my own room until the very end.

It’s one thing to meet up in a hotel thousands of miles away from home and it’s another thing to be letting someone into your private space, the space where you sleep, dream, and plot. It feels somewhat invasive… unless you’re letting in the right person.

“I don’t mind if it’s messy,” Kai says as if to reassure me that whatever it is he thinks I’m hiding won’t surprise him.

“It’s not.” I push the door open and wait on the threshold with my heart thumping against my throat.

He strolls inside, his steps slow and measured, his posture relaxed, his face lifting up to meet the dozens of paper shapes suspended from the ceiling.

He reaches out to grasp one and examines it very carefully, then glances at me over his shoulder and says, “You’re pretty good at this.”

“Thanks.” I’m still lingering by the door.

“I like it.” Kai moves to the desk and puts his palm on the surface. Seconds tick by. He nears the bed and plucks one of the smaller throw pillows out of the bunch and squeezes it with both hands, his long ringed fingers disappearing into the waves of navy-colored faux fur.

I get the distinct feeling that it’s his way of marking my space, making it his.

Eventually, he gets to my very modest CD collection sitting on the shelf that Leigh found for me somewhere on Craigslist. Most of those belonged to Ava once, and while I–just like every person on this planet who’s under thirty–typically stream my music, I can always appreciate the vintage beauty of the physical copy. Being able to hold it, to touch it, to smell it has always excited me.

Kai draws one of the cases from the stack and looks around the room. “You have anything to play it on?”

“Yeah.” I walk over to the desk and pull out the drawer and hand him an external drive I bought for my MacBook a while back just in case. Because I could. I had all the money in the world–past tense. I actually never used the thing.

“Fancy,” Kai says, opening up the case and slipping the CD into the slot while I connect it to my laptop. “Speakers?”

“Don’t have any.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You know that’s not even considered listening, right?”

“Fuck you, Mr. Pretentious.” I punch his shoulder. Very lightly.

He reacts almost instantly, grasping my wrist and bringing it to his mouth, then biting into the soft tissue of my palm right between my thumb and index finger.

I freeze. My entire arm tingles in response.

---