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The quiet was fine. The solitude was welcome.
It meant more time for productivity. He did his best thinking when things were still. When he could just be and breathe. But now the silence was anything but.
Now Anton found the silence oppressive.
His fingers twirled the pen again, hand bouncing against his thigh as he shifted in his seat. His eyes landed on Grace, asleep in his bed, her pink hair spread out around her like a cotton candy halo on the pillows.
Anton sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and blew out a hard breath through his nose. After a takeout feast and some heavy cuddling, they’d passed out in his bed with a B-level horror movie on in the background. It’d been too easy to fall asleep with her in his arms, her heartbeat echoing his own, her body pressed against his side.
Anton couldn’t remember the last time he’d simply lain in bed with another person, let alone a woman he was attracted to. He had enjoyed his time with women, but things always seemed less intimate, less vulnerable, in those encounters. He’d been content to hold her until they’d both fallen asleep. Anton had awoken an hour or so later, disoriented, before the evening had all come back in a rush to him. His chest ached, feeling full at the sight of her. Her mouth was slightly open, her face smushed into a pillow. Anton thought she was cute. Adorable, even.
It was terrible.
He spun the pen faster and frowned, looking away from her. Looking away from the only woman he’d ever managed to date seriously. He shook his head at himself and rubbed his temples with his free hand.
What the hell did that say about him? A man in his early thirties, and he’d never been anyone’s significant other. If that wasn’t a whole bouquet of red flags, he didn’t know what was.
“What the fuck?” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “What the actual fuck?”
He padded out of the bedroom so as to not wake Grace with his existential crisis. His feet carried him straight to his liquor cabinet. He shifted in front of it, eyes moving over the selection before he snatched a bottle of black label whiskey off the shelf and poured himself a glass. The liquid burned his throat when he threw it back, and he winced. It was a drink meant to be sipped, not shotgunned like he was a witless frat boy, but it couldn’t be helped. Grace had him turned around.
He turned, eyes landing on the bouquet of white tulips she’d brought him earlier that day, and he walked over to the flowers, catching a petal between his fingers. Their fragrance was beautiful, lovely even, just like Grace. The thought made him frown, and he took a quick stutter-step away from the flowers. He well and truly liked his girlfriend.
“What am I going to do?” he whispered. He’d really gone and done it now. His inability to turn away from a challenge had led him down the path of destruction more than once, and now just look at him. He never learned his lesson, he never stopped to think-
“Anton?”
He spun around like a top to see her standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Her pink hair was a mess around her shoulders, her clothes rumpled, and not even the threat of morning breath could make him not think she was cute when she rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand.
How did normal people deal with this? This awful thump and turn over of his heart in his chest that made him feel light headed.
How did anyone deal with this shit?
Anton took in a deep breath and forced himself not to not pull out his hair in frustration. It wasn’t Grace’s fault. He couldn’t even keep a houseplant alive, and somehow he was now tied to another human being. An actual person’s emotional well-being had been entrusted to him, and as much as he hated it, he knew his heart was in Grace’s hands, too.
Hers to crush into a million little pieces.
Anton swallowed hard and gave her a little smile. “Yeah?”
“Where did you go?” she asked him, voice still soft and sleepy.
“Business call,” Anton said, willing himself to stop staring at her like a lovesick fool. He was an experienced man-about-town, who had sought refuge from his jaded existence in science, so why was he floundering like a teenager being confronted by their first love?
“Really?” she asked, taking a step into the room.
He gave her a nod. “Truly.”
She crossed her arms and kept walking toward him. “Are you coming back to bed or should I go?” Her eyes darted to the side, toward the door, and Anton’s heart squeezed. He hated that he’d been the one to put that look of uncertainty on her face. He had to fix it.
“Don’t be silly.” He waved his hand at her, giving her his best reassuring smile. “Go back to bed. I’ll be there soon.”
“Are you sure?” She shifted from foot to foot, but she stopped where she was, just a few feet away from him. It took everything in him to not cross the space and pull her close, to run his hands over her and bury his face in her hair like he wanted to. Instead he gave her a smile that he knew didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Of course. I’ll be along soon. I just...need to finish a few things,” he lied. He wanted her to get back into bed and to be safe and happy. He didn’t want her to look uncertain like she did now. Grace could worry about a lot of things, her science brood, coffee in the morning, but she wouldn’t worry about how he felt about her.
“Okay…”
Her fingers twisted in her shirt, and she looked dubious in response to his answer, but after another long beat she turned and made her way back to the bedroom. She paused at the door, one hand on the knob, looking over her shoulder at him. He could tell she wanted to say something, but he watched as she swallowed it and disappeared into the bedroom. He sagged against the counter behind him and let out the breath he had been holding. With a shaky hand he put down the whiskey glass and shook his head.
