Outside the bar, the air is cool and damp, the pavement still glossy from earlier rain. The bass from inside thuds faintly through the walls as the door swings shut behind us.
For a second, we just stand there.
The moment on the dance floor lingers between us. The way Devan's hand had tightened on my waist, the way I'd tipped my face up without thinking. The way the music had changed right before something irreversible could happen.
"The car is this way." Devan clears his throat.
I follow him without speaking. I don't trust my words right now.
The walk is short, quiet except for the distant hum of traffic. He unlocks the car and opens my door, the gesture automatic.
Inside the car, the silence feels different from before. It is closer. Contained.
Streetlights pass in steady intervals, flashing over his profile. Devan drives like he always does. Controlled, focused but his jaw is set tighter than usual.
"Are you good?" he asks lowly, eyes on the road.
"Yeah." I shift in my seat.
"Are you?"
"I am fine." He replies after a few seconds.
Neither of us mentions the dance floor or what had almost transpired. Perhaps it is for the good we don't mention it at all. I can't help the guilt however. Devan is Rachel's brother. He is the guy I am sharing his house with. Where was I even thinking?
I don't think I was thinking.
We pull into the driveway of the house, the porch light casting a soft yellow glow. He cuts the engine and immediately the quiet rushes in.
For a moment, Devan looks like he wants to say something but he decides against it.
"Night, Nellie." he says already reaching for the door.
"Night, Devan."
Inside, we move around each other in the entryway with practiced ease, almost a familiar choreography. I go upstairs first. He lingers a moment below.
I sigh hard when I am in the confines of my room. I hadn't even realised I was holding my breath. I quickly take a shower and change into my booty shorts and tank top. Then I slide under the covers, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep doesn't come.
I have tossed over and over in the bed but I can't find sleep. I have tried every comfortable position I usually sleep in and nothing seems to be working.
The moment at the bar is still haunting my mind even as I try hard to ignore it. Every time I close my eyes, I feel his hand at my waist again. The way he had looked at me like he'd almost made a decision.
I switch on my bedside lamp with a simple groan and look over at my alarm clock.
1: 42 am
It is late. I need to rest so I can be fresh for tomorrow.
It's my hormones acting up again. My mind moves to the vibrator hidden somewhere in my bag but I shake the thought away.
My body is probably sex deprived. I am going to need some water if I want to get through tonight. I lift the covers off my body and pad downstairs, careful on the steps.
I notice immediately that the kitchen light is on. Is it possible that Devan forgot it on?
I freeze at the kitchen door.
Devan stands at the counter, back to me, fridge door open. He wears nothing but a pair of dark boxers, hair slightly mussed like he'd run a hand through it one too many times. Broad shoulders, lean back, bare skin catching the light.
I look down at my choice of clothes. Shorts that barely reach my mid thigh.
He closes the fridge and turns.
We both still. Then his gaze softens after a second.
"You have baby feet."
"I have been told"
"Couldn't sleep either?" Devan's asks, voice rougher than before.
"Water." I swallow instead, gaze trained on his.
I fear my eyes will not be able to contain themselves when they look lower than his face.
"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair.
"Same."
I move to the cabinet, acutely aware of him watching me. Suddenly, the house feels too quiet. Too small.
"About earlier," I mutter breaking the silence.
I can't contain myself anymore. The events of the entire night have been on my mind. I need to say something.
It isn't something we can just move on from without addressing. We can't pretend it never happened either. He maybe able to, I can't.
His expression shifts. It is more guarded. "Yeah."
"It was just… the music. The atmosphere."
"Right."
I pour water into a glass, hands steady only because I force them to be. I can't admit it to him that my sexual deprivation is affecting my judgement.
"It won't happen again."
A muscle in his jaw ticks.
"No. It won't" he agrees.
The words feel like a line drawn carefully in sand. I lean back against the counter, clutching my glass harder than expected.
"We live together. Rachel would kill us." I say
"Not just Rachel."
Our eyes meet.
Something unspoken passes between us. It is acknowledgment, not denial.
Devan is definitely a good looking man but I don't want to jeopardize our relationship with a temporary feeling. Something that both of us will regret. Plus, it will hurt Rachel.
"It was nothing." I insist softly.
He steps closer forcing my eyes to level with his bare chest. My breath hitches.
"It wasn't nothing."
My spine stiffens. His words force my gaze back to his.
"But it doesn't get to be something." he continues, quieter now.
Silence wraps around us.
I nod. "Right."
Another step, barely noticeable. He is close enough that I can feel the heat from his skin. Close enough that I have to tilt my head slightly to keep eye contact.
"This doesn't change anything." he says.
"No."
My words are a bare whisper. We both know it already has.
I push off the counter first. "Goodnight, Devan."
"Night, Nellie."
I walk past him, every nerve aware of how near our bodies had been. He hadn't reached for me but for some reason my belly was burning with need.
Yep. I definitely need to be in bed at this hour.
Upstairs, back in bed, sleep still doesn't come.
Oh dear.