The Ides of March: CH. 6

CHAPTER SIX: THE RUBICON WAS THE BED

He didn’t say anything, and neither did I. For a second, we just stood there—me inside, him out—the silence rushing back like gravity. His cheeks were pink from the cold, his jaw was tight, but his eyes… God, his eyes were the same. And they wrecked me.

He shifted his weight. “I know I should’ve texted first.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, but my voice didn’t hold the line. He looked down, nodding like he agreed. But he didn’t leave.

“I just…” He swallowed. “I couldn’t get on with things like it didn’t happen. Like you didn’t happen.”

I exhaled slowly. My hand still rested on the edge of the door—the one I should’ve closed five seconds ago.

“I thought we said everything.”

“We didn’t say anything.”

He looked up again, eyes glassy now, but steady. “Levi, I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what I am. But I know what it felt like. That night. The next morning. Even at the goddamn bus stop.”

He stepped closer. “You’re not a mistake.”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Because part of me still wanted to believe that we’d imagined it—that the storm, the drinks, the firelight had twisted reality into something it wasn’t. But there he was. In the flesh. Choosing me.

I stepped back and held the door wider. “Come in.”

He stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him like it always does, only this time it felt final. Like a lock sliding into place. Like something that shouldn’t happen and already had.

We stood in the narrow space between the door and my desk—too close for casual, too far for honest—until I moved first. I backed up. He followed.

No words.

His eyes stayed on mine, tracking me like I might bolt again, like this was a hunt and I was still deciding whether to run or surrender.

I didn’t run.

I stopped at the edge of the bed and turned to face him—just in time to see him close the space like he wasn’t afraid anymore. His hands landed on my face, firm and certain, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone like he was studying it. Mapping it. Like I was something he wasn’t finished learning.

And then he kissed me.

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