Page 122 of Built to Fall
But then she turns away from the control panel and toward me. Her eyes flick up to my face, almost like she’s searching for something—reassurance or a confirmation of sorts.
“Did you mean what you said?” she asks softly, running her hands through her hair like she so often does. “About me being able to take you up on your offer anytime?”
My throat tightens just from looking at her. “Yeah. I did.”
“Even if I’m still figuring things out?”
“Especially then,” I say, stepping a little bit closer.
“Even if I don’t know what I want?”
“Even then.”
The column of her neck works through a swallow. “Okay.”
For a second, I think that’s the end of it. That we’ll ride the rest of the way to our floor in a silent elevator, the heaviness of what we agreed upon sitting between us like an extra set of luggage.
But Lina takes a step toward me, and then another one.
And when she looks up at me, there’s something steadier than I expected in her eyes.
She rises on her toes, barely hesitating so that she does what she wants to do. At the same time, she’s giving me the option to pull away, like I did for her last night. I don’t move. I couldn’t if I tried.
Her lips finally brush mine, and this time it’s completely different than it was at the house. It’s featherlight at first, and it nearly undoes me.
Still, I kiss her back just as gently, careful not to startle whatever it is we’re balancing between us.
Each moment of the kiss sends a pulse of relief through me, letting me know that I didn’t royally fuck up our friendship by kissing her.
All of it rocks me because I’ve never had my heart pound against my chest like this over a simple kiss.
Because this—whatever the fuckthisis—doesn’t feel anything like my normal hookup.
Then again, Lina never has felt that way to me.
There’s no rush, no expectation, no performance. Just Lina standing in front of me, trusting me enough to close that distance between us.
When she pulls away, I want to say something clever to dissolve the feeling of my chest splintering open from being this close to her.
But then she rests her head lightly against my shoulder, and I know this isn’t just desire pummeling me like it would be with any other girl.
It’s care. Real, messy,terrifyingcare.
Then, the elevator dings and the doors slide open, reacquainting us with the real world where the doors to our apartments are just outside the confines of this small metal box.
We step out, and I carry her bag to her door, setting it beside her while she pulls her key out and unlocks the door before pushing it open.
“I’ll see you soon?” she asks.
“Yeah, really soon.”
She smiles, and it hits me like a punch in the chest. Then, her fingers graze mine when she picks up her bag, and she lingers in the doorway like she’s not sure she wants to put the door between us yet.
I don't want her to either. I stay standing here even after she steps inside, instead of relieving myself of this torture and walking down the hall toward my own apartment.
“Thank you for everything, Grant. Seriously.”
Even though she says ‘everything,’I’m still not sure what that entails. The obvious answer would be me taking her to Martha’s Vineyard, getting her away from the grief of her mom.
