Page 117 of Chandelier Enthralled
“I’m not really a hugger…”
“You are now.”
“I’m more of a—”
“I know, I’ve seen what you like.”
“Actually, you haven’t.”
She made a quiet noise of approval and then chuckled.
She wasn’t grand or ostentatious, she was like that tea she’d made, a warm cup of sweetness on a chilly afternoon. A beacon of hope on a roiling ocean that had capsized me.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” I whispered.
“I’m not going to fuck you either.”
I eased us apart. “Okay, then.”
“Pass me my tea.”
I stepped back and found the space between us too cruel to bare, but I made sure not to show it.
Reaching for a mug, I offered her the side with the handle in case it was still hot.
She wrapped her palms around it and blew on the surface of the tea to cool it, causing the liquid to form ripples.
Watching the undulation of her tea, I recognized that gentle flow mirrored the balance of structure and fluidity in design. The curves and movement inspiring a thought, sparking the idea of a building that blended the same dynamic form with grounded stability, the simplicity sparking a vision.
“Greyson?” She called me back to the moment.
“Yes.”
“Where did you go?”
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
I smiled at her. “Everything inspires me.”
“I inspire you?”
“More than you know.”
She gave me a sweet smile. “You’re so talented and have such vision, I’m curious about something.”
“Go on.”
“You live in a house you didn’t design.”
“Fond memories.” The kind I was afraid might slip away if I walked away from this house.
“It’s beautiful, truly, but it’s not quite the kind of place I pictured you in.”
“I’m sure the right place will come along when it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
