Page 65 of Hot Lap
We sit like that for a while, fingers twined, silence thick but not heavy.
After dinner, the walk back to the elevators is quiet and comfortable. There's a kind of easy warmth between us now, stitched together from shared stories and unspoken understanding, and a gentle touch that could so easily become more.
In the elevator, Reece leans casually against the wall, watching me with a small, private smile that loosens something inside me.
When we reach our floor, he strolls down the hall, hands tucked in his pockets, like he’s not in a hurry for the night to end either. There are no cameras or observers here, just the low hum that's been slowly, stubbornly vibrating between us all evening.
At my room, we stop.
He considers me, then smiles. "Sleep well, Mai."
“You too, Reece.” I unlock my door and slip inside, letting it click closed behind me.
For a moment, I just stand there, hand still on the handle, pulse thudding in my ears.
Then I hear the muted sound of his room door closing, followed by a soft knock at the inner connecting door.
I cross the room, heart hammering, and open it. He’s barefoot, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans again, hair a little mussed.
I don't invite him in, but I lean against the doorframe, the same way I did earlier. The invitation is there, open and waiting.
He smiles. "Just wanted to say thank you."
"For what?"
"For giving us a shot."
I look down and nod. "You make it easy."
He chuckles under his breath. "Pretty sure that's not true, but I'll take the compliment."
We just look at each other. We’ve reached a tipping point, and each of us is waiting for the other to do something to nudge the scale.
He lifts his hand and brushes a knuckle along my cheekbone. The touch is so light it barely registers, yet it sears right through me.
His smile makes my knees weak. Oooh god, I want to reach for him, pull him in and let him inside my body, because the truth is he’s already inside my mind and my heart.
"Goodnight, honeybee."
"Goodnight, Reece," I whisper.
He steps back, and gently closes the door on his side. His soft laugh carries to me as I reach for my door. It sounds like maybe he can't quite believe this is real either.
I close it and lean my forehead against the wood, breathing him in. Then I push off and back away. The door is unlocked and… it stays that way.
The ache Reece leaves behind isn't pain.
It's longing.
And hope.
And,fuck, I don’t know if I can trust it.
I’m still awake half an hour later, waiting for my newly painted toenails to dry, when there’s another knock, this time at the hallway door.
I duck-walk over and check the peephole. Reece stands in the hallway, a small brown bag in hand and that familiar hopeful tilt to his mouth. I open the door. “Did you get lost?”
He laughs and lifts the bag. "I got you dessert."
