Page 50 of When Hearts Ignite
When he dropped me home that night, because once again, he wouldn’t let me take the subway afterward, he walked me up the steps of my apartment, ignoring the hoots and hollers from the punks on my street. We stood on the top step, with the pale moonlight shining down upon us and my hands fumbling in my purse for my keys. When I found them, I looked up, finding his face dipped down slightly, blocking the moon in the inky darkness of the night skies.
But I didn’t need the moon to illuminate my surroundings when he was there, standing mere inches away from me, the warmth from his body wrapping around me like a security blanket. He shone from within, his soul calling to mine, and it was impossible not to notice.
For those few blessed seconds, we stared at each other, oblivious to the cackling of the delinquents in the neighborhood, the backfiring of an old car starting up down the street, the blast of punk rock music from the speakers of a passing car.
Steven stared at me, his eyes turning more heated with each passing second, and my lips parted of their own accord. My nerves sparked and sizzled, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and I watched his chest lift and fall rapidly. His brows furrowed, like he was grappling with something inside him, and I remembered the way my heartbeat careened out of control, ready to dive off the deep end.
“Happy birthday, Steven,” I whispered, our breaths mingling in the small distance between us, cloaking us in our small slice of heaven. Somehow, it felt like I was telling him a lot more than simple birthday wishes.
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he swallowed. The tawny irises weren’t visible then, long eclipsed by his swirling black pupils. His eyes darted to my lips again, and I felt myself leaning in, almost imperceptibly, and him following suit, but then he stiffened and backed up a smidge.
Enough to tell me the spell was broken.
“Thank you, Grace, for the best birthday I’ve ever had. You’re right, I didn’t need to spend a lot to be happy.”
His voice, threaded with tension and regret, echoes in my mind as I stare at the spreadsheet in front of me, my heart still pounding that staccato rhythm, a pleasure laced pain sifting through my chest.
It’s almost as if I’m grieving a loss for something I’ve never had in the first place.
I remember how my lips trembled when I whispered in his ear, “Steven, you’ll come to learn, I’m always right.”
Riiing.
The blaring of the office phone pulls me out of my brief bout of melancholia, and I mouth my apologies to Jamie, who nods before walking back to her cubicle.
Glancing at the caller ID, I smile.
“Stev—Mr. Kingsley?”
A heavy exhale filters through the phone and a chill seeps through me.
“Grace, can you come in for a few minutes?”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
Minutes later, I sit in his beautiful office, the warm sunlight draping over him in what should’ve been a beautiful moment. But he looks haggard as he rubs his palm over his jaw, his lips pressed in a firm line. His forehead pinches, and he takes another deep breath before bringing his cup up to his lips.
Like he’s bracing himself for something bad to happen.
The AC churns on and I shiver as I take in those beautiful hazel eyes, which seem sad and full of regret today.
“Mr. Kingsley? Is everything okay?” I sit up straighter, my fingers twiddling with my shirt, and a heavy sense of foreboding sinks into my chest.
He leans forward and clasps his hands together. “Grace. You’re the best intern on my team this year. Your intelligence and hard work haven’t gone unnoticed. If this were only up to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He pauses as if to gauge my response.
My chest feels like a freight train has slammed into it. I can’t breathe as my mind processes his words. Oh no. This can’t be. I need this job offer. My stomach churns, and I grip the hem of my shirt tightly in my fist.
My skin heats as I stare at my clenched hands, white-knuckled, and an avalanche of emotions buries me alive, turning an otherwise beautiful sunny day into the darkest nightmare. Anger, indignation, disbelief, grief, and a myriad of burning sensations rob me of my breath and all I can do is to keep breathing, to not fall apart in front of him.
I’ve worked my ass off for this offer and it’s evident.
I deserve it more than anyone else in the internship group.
How could he do this to me?
How dare he?
My mind latches onto the scalding anger, and my nostrils flare.
