“No, not really. I mean, it’s not a habit I have.”
“You should. It enhances everything.”
She lifts a skeptical brow. “I love a good song as much as the next gal, but everything?”
“Everything,” I insist. If I hadn’t seen her tear-stained cheeks after I played for her yesterday—a reaction I burned into memory—I’d believe she was more left-brain oriented than she’s letting on. Though it’s true that a certain amount of the population isn’t as affected by music as others, it’s most definitely not the case for her. She’s just not aware of how necessary it is for her as she should be. “It could be as much of a tool for you as your keyboard. It has the power to draw everything out of you that you can’t fully grasp on your own. For you, it’s fuel, trust me,” I tell her.
“Well, when you put it like that, I will.”
She’s looking up at me with the same expression she has had for the past twenty-four hours—touch me. I inhale a breath of patience, fighting once again to keep from capturing her perfect lips and owning them as the seconds continue to tick toward goodbye. She’s determined to snuff us out before we can become another mistake and leave our time together as nothing but a memory when she boards that plane. While I understand it because of how she’s explained it, and how it’s clearly affecting her, I can’t help but want to make her departure as hard for her as she’s continually making it for me.
Neither of us notice the arrival of the elevator, just as lost in each other as we have been for endless minutes today until the attendant speaks up, holding the door to usher the few of us now gathered inside.
As instructed, we all do an about-face and turn in the direction of the glass wall at the back of the car. As the attendant begins spouting off facts about the top floor and the car starts to move, I press play on “Dive Deep （Hushed）” by Andrew Belle. Natalie’s reaction is instantaneous as the music begins to play. I feel the shift in her, the vibration and exhilaration rushing to the surface as the Seattle skyline appears while we gradually ascend. Unknowingly, Natalie tightens her hold on my hand, and I turn the music up, drowning out the attendant and the rest of the world around us to emphasize my point.
As we continue to rise, I can feel myself falling further into infatuation with her. In a matter of days, she’s managed to captivate and draw confessions from me that I never saw myself making to anyone, let alone a practical stranger.
When the door opens, I guide her out and onto the slowly revolving floor, away from probing eyes as the soft beat and lyrics work their way into her. Her chest begins to rise and fall as her breathing picks up. A minute later, we’re collectively standing in front of the wall of glass which overlooks the brightly lit cityscape. Opting out of the view, I study her and see her expression soften when the lyrics start to resonate with her. Ignoring the view along with me, she turns to face me, her eyes boring into mine as she falls under the spell, listening intently. Lips parting, she keeps her gaze locked with mine as my heart thrashes in my chest.
Fuck.
I’ve never felt so exposed, so raw with another human being in my entire fucking life. She’s leaving in hours with absolutely no intention of looking back, and I’ve never been so unsatisfied.
Adding to her confusion with my own won’t help her, but it’s not confusion I’m feeling when I stare back at her right now. Everything she’s drawing from me feels imprisoned. If I’m unable to act on any of it, I at least want to relay to her what she’s making me feel, and it’s through borrowed words I’m doing it, which keeps us both relatively safe. That is until she makes safe impossible when she whispers my name, shattering my patience as I will time to slow—to fucking stop, altogether.
Unable to keep from touching her a second longer, I glance around to make sure we’re alone for the moment, then glide my knuckles appreciatively down her cheek. In the next breath, I’m exhaling a groan into her parted lips as she grips the back of my neck, clutching my hair, clutching me to bring me closer.
Because we’re kissing.
Body tensing with the realization, I grip her face and take control. I lose that control just as quickly as I gain it when she presses against me, seeming starved as we furiously explore each other’s mouths. Chest detonating at the feel of her lush, hungry mouth, I grip her chin and thrust my tongue against hers, invading, consuming, taking every second we’re allowed as she kisses me back without an ounce of restraint.