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Exactly how they’d sat beside each other that October night. Except she was the one freaking out this time.
Her breaths came in heavy pants as she tried to get them under control. Hot tears ran unchecked down her face and she pressed her hands to her stomach. A mournful sob echoed from her chest and she curled in on herself.
Strong arms came around her as he pulled her into his lap. She buried her face in his neck, clutching at his t-shirt. He caged her in with his legs on either side and his arms around her shoulders.
“I’m so stupid,” she cried against him, her lungs laboring to get a whole breath. “This is all my fault!”
His chest rumbled with soft words she couldn’t understand. A hand rubbed up and down her spine and made slow circles at the top and bottom of each pass.
She wanted to crawl inside his warmth and never come out.
His rumbled words turned into something familiar. It wasn’t until her breathing had steadied and her tears had slowed that she began to hear the song he was singing to her.
Maybe because she was from Jersey so he chose another Jersey native to bring her comfort. Maybe because he’d caught her listening to this band more than once. Maybe because they were connected in places no one else could begin to grasp.
But his calm and careful rendition of Bleachers’ “Isimo” sliced through her anxiety and soothed some primal part of her soul.
And she wanted, wanted,wantedto believe him.
ASA
He didn’t know how long he held her. A while.
Eventually her body relaxed against his and her breathing evened out. She was awake but somewhere else mentally. He kept singing and smoothing his hand up and down her spine.
She let go of his shirt and wrapped her arms around his middle.
The door to the apartment opened and he turned his head to the bathroom doorway in time to see a man with a military style haircut dressed like he was trying too hard to look like a civilian.
“They’re in here,” he said, stepping aside for another man to join them.
Zara didn’t move. Her body gave no indication that she knew anyone else had arrived.
The second man took in Asa and Zara’s position, the proximity to the toilet, and the towels she’d thrown on the floor.
He licked his lips and nodded once. “I have something that will ease her stomach,” he said.
Asa didn’t want to move her though. She’d finally stopped crying.
The man, who Asa had deduced was Gregor, left and came back with some pills and a glass of water. He sat down beside Asa and nudged Zara’s shoulder gently.
“You want some water?” he asked.
Zara gradually straightened a bit and looked over at Gregor. Her eyebrows lifted slowly like she just realized he was there. She nodded.
He handed her the pills and the glass. She took them and handed the water back when she was done.
“What if we go sit in the living room?” Gregor asked gently.
Asa held perfectly still. If she didn’t want to move, he wasn’t making her. He wasn’t ever making that mistake again.
The look in her eyes when she’d found out he’d gotten her this apartment… She’d never looked at him like that. Like he’d just surprised her in the worst way.
He still maintained that having a backup plan was a good idea. But he shouldn’t have done it secretly.
It had become painfully clear within seconds that he’d overstepped. Protective wasn’t a valid excuse for disrespecting her autonomy.
He’d experienced regret in his life more times than he could count. But the regret he felt in that moment was like a knife to his soul.
