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My breath hitches at the mention of our kiss. I can still feel his lips against mine, the taste of champagne mingling with the sweetness of him. It all felt so real, but it wasn’t, and that realization sharpens the sting.
“I guess I’m a better actress than I thought,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond, just smiles at me through the darkness. There’s something in his gaze that tugs at my heart, a longing that mirrors my own.
But then headlights from the street sweep across his face. Seeing his features more clearly, I realize that I was only picking up on what I wanted to.
Swallowing my hopes, I clear my throat. “Would you like to come in for a drink?”
Even though we don’t have romance, we still deserve to celebrate this moment as friends — and in private, away from everyone on the rooftop.
“Sure.” He hesitates for the briefest moment. “But only if you have something stronger than champagne.”
I laugh, pushing open the front door. “I think I have whiskey somewhere,” I tell him, stepping into the darkened hallway.
Felix follows behind, closing the door gently behind him. As I flip on the lights and shrug off my wrap, I feel his gaze on me, heavy and warm like his hand on my back when we danced earlier. I shake my head, trying to clear it of these dangerous thoughts.
In the kitchen, I rummage through the cabinets until I find a dusty bottle of whiskey. I don’t usually drink at home, but tonight, the occasion seems to warrant it. My fingers dance across the cool surface of the glass as I pull out two tumblers and set them on the countertop.
“Are you okay?” Felix asks from behind me, and I jump, nearly dropping one of the glasses.
“Yes,” I reply quickly, setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary. “Just… lost in thought.”
He nods, watching me with those penetrating eyes that seem to see right through me. He doesn’t press further — he never does — but I can see it, the unspoken questions lingering between us.
I pour the whiskey, the sound of it hitting the glass a soothing balm against the tension in the room. I pass one to Felix, our fingers briefly brushing as he takes it from me. The contact sends a longing through me, but I swallow it down along with a generous sip of whiskey.
“To friendship,” I propose, raising my glass towards him with a tentative smile. He mirrors my action, his own lips twitching upwards in a half-smile that does nothing to mask the confusion in his eyes.
“To friendship,” he echoes, clinking his glass against mine before taking a long gulp. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and I’m captivated by the sight. The whiskey burns a trail down my own throat, warming me from the inside out.
Felix sets his glass down on the counter, his fingers lightly drumming against its rim. He’s quiet, lost in thought, his gaze distant yet intense. This is a side of him I’ve seldom seen; he’s usually so guarded, so controlled. It’s unsettling and alluring in equal measure.
“I think we have everyone convinced.” He finally looks at me.
“Especially our parents.” I chuckle, unable to suppress the nervous energy bubbling inside me.
Because I can’t stay still, I move into the living room, Felix close behind, and put on some music. I feel like a stranger in my own home, awkward around all of the usually familiar belongings.
As we settle onto the couch, I glance down at the ring again, the diamond catching the flickering candlelight. It’s beautiful, but I can’t help feeling a pang of sadness at the thought that this is all just for show. If only Felix were truly interested in being a partner, in building a life together, but I know better than to entertain such fantasies.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle and concerned.
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a lot to take in, you know? But we’re going to make this work.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Are you regretting this?”
“No. Not at all,” I say quickly, perhaps too quickly. The words sound flat even to my own ears. I don’t want to ruin the moment, to let him see how much this is affecting me.
“It’s just…”
“Just what?” he asks, his dark eyes full of worry, and I hate the fact that I’m the cause of it.
“It’s just that…” A hesitant breath escapes me. “Sometimes it’s a bit hard to remember that this isn’t real.”
A silence settles between us, heavy and palpable. He blinks, surprise flickering across his face. “Oh.” It’s a quiet admission, full of unspoken emotions. He drops his gaze to the floor, his fingers unconsciously playing with the edge of his shirt.
I blink back unexpected tears and quickly look away, not wanting him to see my vulnerability.
