Page 100 of Cold Front
The song faded into something slower, something deeper, and I felt the shift in the air between us. His hand slid from mine, but it didn’t go far, settling lightly against my waist. My breath hitched. The weight of his palm burned through my shirt, and suddenly, I was hyperaware of everything—the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the way his gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before flicking back up.
Heat pooled low in my stomach. The air grew thick, electric, and when his fingers flexed slightly at my waist, I had to fight to keep my voice steady.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” I murmured.
Niall didn’t move, didn’t step back. His thumb brushed against the fabric of my shirt. It was the tiniest shift, but I felt it like a spark.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, finally, he nodded, voice rough when he said, “Okay.”
I turned back to the stove, heart pounding, knowing damn well this was far from over.
We plated the food together, moving in sync, passing utensils and dishes without needing to speak. It felt natural—easy in a way that made something ache deep in my chest. We carried our plates to the table, settling into our seats as the music continued playing in the background.
Between bites, conversation flowed. Nothing deep at first—just light talk about the food, the playlist, an easy back-and-forth that felt like slipping into an old rhythm. But then Niall set his fork down, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the table. His gaze flickered to me. He looked like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to start. I waited, giving him space.
He exhaled, fingers stilling against the table. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, low and rough. “But I know I did.”
My throat tightened.
He went on. “I thought keeping things quiet would protect something… maybe buy me time to figure it all out. I told myself it wasn’t about you. That it was just nobody’s business. But then…” He trailed off, jaw tight. “But then I saw your face.”
I stayed quiet, my throat thick.
“I made you feel invisible, and I hate that. You deserve more than I gave you.”
I swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “I told you didn’t need a grand gesture, Niall. I just needed…something.Anything that said I wasn’t a secret you regretted.”
His shoulders dropped, heavy with guilt.
I went on, not accusing—just telling the truth. “With Chase… he told me being bi wasn’t real. Said I’d always want more, that I couldn’t be trusted. I lost friends trying to prove to him that he was enough. I changed who I was just to make things easier. But with you, I thought I could justbe.And then you wanted to keep us a secret. And maybe that’s not the same kind of erasure, but it still made me feel small.”
Niall flinched—not dramatically, just the smallest shift—but it landed all the same. He looked like he wanted to reach for me but wasn’t sure if he should. If hecould.
“I wasn’t fair either,” I added, softer now. “That day, I said I was with a guy who wouldn’t fight to acknowledge me. I lumped you in with someone who tore me down to feel bigger,” I admitted. “You weren’t trying to break me. You were just trying not to break yourself. I was hurt and scared, and I said something stupid to push you away before you could pull back again. But I didn’t mean all of it. Not really.”
His eyes glistened, but he didn’t look away. “You were right to say it,” he murmured. “Even if it hurt. I needed to hear it.” He paused. “I want to fight for you. I didn’t know how before. But I’m learning. I swear I am.”
Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back. “I don’t need you to shout it from a rooftop, Niall. I just need to know you’re in this. That you’reinit—with me.”
Our food sat untouched, growing cold between us, but neither of us moved to do anything about it.
“I’m sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper. “For all of it. For making you feel like you had to shrink yourself just to be with me.”
The words felt like a warm ache in my chest.
“I didn’t mean it,” he added. “You should’ve felt seen. You should’ve felt safe.”
I nodded slowly, the lump in my throat thick. “I’m sorry too. For what I said. For acting like you were the same as him. You’re not. You’ve never been. I think I was just so scared of ending up back in that place again that I didn’t give you the chance to show me who you could be.”
His hand inched forward on the table—hesitant, tentative. Not quite touching, but close.
“I’ve missed being this close to you,” he admitted, his voice even quieter than before.
My stomach clenched, a mix of warmth and longing spreading through me. I swallowed, setting my own fork down as I met his gaze. “I miss us.”
The words hung between us, heavier than anything else we’d said that night. Niall exhaled softly, like he’d been holding something in for too long. Then, as if the universe had impeccable timing, ‘Made for Me’ by Muni Long began playing through the speakers. The sensual, hypnotic melody curled around us, wrapping us in something unspoken, something inevitable.
Niall’s expression shifted, his throat working as he swallowed. His plate was forgotten as he stood, holding out his hand. My breath caught as I stared at it, at him. Then, without hesitation, I slipped my fingers into his.
