Page 31 of Tension
“What were you thinking?” I hiss. “This is my home, Greyson, my personal space, and you invite our students? They’re a part of our job, not our personal life.”
He leans casually against the doorframe, his expression maddeningly calm. “They’re adults, Vae. They can handle a party.”
“That’s not the point,” I say, my voice sharp. “You know how complicated this is. Mateo is already…” I trail off, shaking my head. “He’s vulnerable, and Yvonne…”
“And Yvonne is harmless,” he interrupts, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re projecting.”
My jaw tightens. “You think this is about me?”
“I think you’re overreacting,” he replies, crossing his arms. “You’ve had a few drinks and you’re letting your emotions get the better of you. They aren’t doing anything wrong. They’re just here to celebrate your birthday. That’s all.”
I glare at him, my frustration spilling over. “You don’t understand. This isn’t just about tonight. It’s about what this could mean for the studio, for them. Forhim.”
Greyson’s gaze softens slightly, and he steps closer. “Vaeda, I know you care about the studio and about Mateo’s sobriety, but you need to trust him. He’s stronger than you think.”
I look away, my arms wrapping around myself as the weight of his words sinks in. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” he agrees quietly. “But you have to let go a little. Let him make his own choices and let yourself breathe.”
The room falls silent, the irritation between us dissipating slightly. I glance at the door, knowing the party is still in full swing on the other side. Somewhere out there, Mateo and Yvonne are mingling, laughing, and living their lives while I’m in here, unraveling.
“Fine,” I relent, my voice resigned. “But if this blows up, it’s on you.”
Greyson smiles faintly, reaching for the door. “It won’t. Trust me.”
He leaves, the door clicking softly behind him, and I’m left alone in the quiet of my bedroom. I sit down on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. The martinis swirl in my veins, dulling the edges of my frustration but doing nothing to ease the ache inside my chest.
Forcing myself to stand, I smooth out my dress and straighten my posture. I’m not about to let this ruin my night.
The hallway is quieter than the main room, the sounds of the party sounding farther away as I step out of my bedroom. I’m still reeling from my argument with Greyson, my thoughts tangled and restless, and the alcohol coursing through my veins isn’t helping. I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply as I turn toward the main room.
And then I collide with him.
Strong hands steady me, gripping my arms gently but firmly. The familiar scent of clean soap and something distinctly Mateo fills my senses before I even look up. When I do, his dark eyes are locked on mine, wide with surprise but lined in appreciation, a lingering look that makes my pulse quicken.
“Vaeda,” he says softly, his voice low and filled with gravel. “Are you okay?”
“I…” My words catch in my throat as I nod, his touch alighting my skin with goose bumps I wasn’t prepared for. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
We don’t move, and his hands remain on my arms, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. The hallway seems to shrink around us, the air thickening with an anticipation that makes my skin prickle. He’s so close, close enough that I can see the shadow of stubble on his jaw and the way his throat bobs as he swallows.
“Happy birthday,” he murmurs after a moment, his lips curving into a small, hesitant smile, then his hands drop away, leaving my skin cold in their absence.
“Thank you,” I manage, the words sounding strangled.
He takes a step back, but then he leans in, his movement slow and deliberate. “I hope it’s a good one,” he rasps, his breath brushing against my cheek and his lips pressing against my skin, soft and warm, just shy of my jawline. I feel the heat of him, the way his presence seems to wrap around me, stealing the air from my lungs.
But then it happens. I shift, barely, instinctively leaning into the moment, and his lips graze the corner of my mouth. It’s fleeting, an accidental brush that sends a shockwave through me. My breath catches, and I know he feels it too because he pulls back abruptly, his eyes wide and searching mine.
“I…” he starts, his voice unsteady, but the words don’t come. He runs a hand through his hair, his movements tense and unsure. “I should…”
I nod, my heart pounding inside my chest. “Yes, of course.”
The sound of footsteps draws my attention, and my stomach twists as I spot Yvonne at the end of the hall. She’s standing near the entrance to the main room, her expression frozen somewhere between shock and confusion. Her eyes dart between Mateo and me, her lips parting slightly as if she’s about to say something.
Mateo sees her too, his posture stiffening as he takes another step back, putting more distance between us. “I was just coming from the bathroom,” he explains quickly, loud enough to be heard by both her and I.
I nod, though the gesture feels hollow, and stand rooted in place, my legs locked. There’s no doubt in my mind that she caught the end of our interaction, and now I’ve put the studio at risk.
