Misinformed: Chapter Six

Isla looked at her phone and sniffed. “William must have went to that deli again,” she laid back on the sofa and closed her eyes.

Sophie and Isla had been listening to records all day while getting things ready for the big date night.

“Do you need permission to leave?” Sophie murmured as she looked over the record sleeve.

“Mnh,” Isla snuggled in, “I like this song a lot.”

Sophie looked over her shoulder at her. “Do you actually buy anything to furnish your house?” She glances around at all the new decor Isla had happily given her. The new lamps, the record player, the grill that was outside, some new throw blankets and throw pillows. Isla had even brought over a bottle of Dior perfume that looked brand new. “Or do you just steal things from your parents and let them buy new things?”

“Mom and I have a deal,” Isla says dismissively. “You know how much she enjoys decorating.”

“So…” Sophie was making a mental checklist of everything that was brought over, wondering if she should get attached. “Do I keep these? What about the grill?”

Isla flourished out her legs and arms as she remained laid out on the sofa. “I’m just your fairy godmother tonight. You can do whatever you want to do with my magic.”

“But does it end at midnight?” Sophie asked.

Isla flopped back into the sofa. “My powers have no limitations,” she languishes on the sofa. “I am infinite and unburdened by time constraints.”

Sophie just sat there for a moment in confused silence, wondering if she was an accessory to a crime. She also had a clear picture in her head as to why Isla wanted to be a lawyer.

Isla then sits up and smoothes down her hair. She slips her coat back over her shoulders and snuggles it around her neck. “William is doing fine by the way.”

For a moment, Sophie’s fingers stilled on the records in the crate. It was a quiet and contemplative moment. She was glad to hear the news, but it also felt like an ice pick in her stomach.

“Did you hear me?” Isla said as she stood up. “William is doing just fine.”

“I know he is,” Sophie answers.

Isla strut into the kitchen, fetching a drink from the fridge. “He’s still doing that support group. Which, I mean, he’s good at it.” She cracked open the bottle of water.

“He was always good at listening,” Sophie tucked a loose wave behind her ear. The hairstyle Isla gave her was loose and bouncy, lots of waves and gentle curls. Sophie thought she looked like some romantic heroine from a Gothic novel. She just didn’t like that it uncovered her pointed ears.

A trilling sound came from Isla’s chest and she plucked her phone back from her bra. “Speak of the devil,” she slung her head back and chugged the water. “He’s ready. Said he talked to a man at the doctor’s office who lost his leg. Said he was waiting to give him his card for the support group.”

“That’s William,” Sophie sighed.

Isla stood up and stretched, her back popping. “You look amazing. He’ll be hard pressed not to keep his eyes-” she stopped herself and grimaced. “Eye....off of you. Hands too, if you’re lucky. Which you are, because of my magic!”

Sophie blushed but didn’t argue with her. “Thanks for the help,” she smiled.

Isla winked, petting Persephone goodbye before she walked out the door.

Sophie turned back to looking over the records and listening to the music play. She had a dessert made and waiting, and she was prepped to make the salad once Silas got the steaks on the grill. She felt her insides kick and jump when she thought of him. For the first time in a long time, she thought to herself how much she wanted someone. She wanted Silas and her stomach tightened at the thought. The last time she felt that way it ended in horrible disaster.

Her thoughts were cut short as her phone started ringing. It was Mr. Beauchamp. The thought of work turned off her wistful daydreams and turned on her business savy.

“Hello? Yes, sir?” She stood up and turned down the music. 

“I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, Ms. Starling,” Beauchamp said with a buttery voice. “I was just wondering if Silas had given you that envelope he has for me.”

Sophie’s face tensed as she listened to him. “Oh,” she murmured, trying to keep a clam facade. “I wouldn’t know anything about that, Mr. Beauchamp. He’s just my neighbor I-” 

“It’s very important, Ms. Starling. I need that envelope as soon as you walk into work tomorrow,” Beauchamp’s voice was losing it’s butter and becoming more like coarse salt. “He promised me he would give it to you right away.”

Sophie’s mouth opened and she sighed. “Yes. I understand. I know,” she paced before her couch. “Yes, I’ll see what I can do.” She hung up her phone and sat on the edge of the sofa. She frowned as her mind swirled with thoughts of Silas’ connection to Beauchamp. Sophie had been trying to put it behind her, uncertain about his work but trusting both men because of her proximity to them.

Hearing Silas’s motorcycle roaring up towards the house Sophie got off the sofa, shaking away her doubt and replacing with the excitement she had before. Sophie bounced into the kitchen where she went through the list of things Isla told her to do.

One: wait until he comes up to see if he wants to start cooking right away or if he wants to rest for a moment.  If he wants to rest, start with the beer. Sit on the sofa and play music, try and talk and start the conversation that’ll last through the evening. If he doesn’t wanna rest and just start the steaks, still start with the beer and chat with him at the grill. Make the salad while the steaks rest.

Sophie tried to find something to do in the kitchen while she waited for him to come up the stairs. She played with the pepper grinder Isla brought, at first she was unable to crank it and when she turned it over to look at the bottom she got chunks of pepper in her open mouth. She coughed and sputtered, spitting loudly into the sink and she tried to scrape off her tongue.

While Sophie and Isla prepared the apartment and the food, Silas was in his appointment. Afterwards, he went out to a clothing store and bought a new shirt. He wasn’t used to dating. In fact, he had never really been on one. He had seen women, just never dated. After anxiously purchasing a shirt that didn’t make him question his life he went to the grocery store. There, he bought some fancy beer as well as something sweet for Sophie. He wasn’t quite sure what she liked, he knew lemons so he got several lemon-based donuts. He wasn’t one for confectionery sweets, he didn’t care for them that much. If it made her happy it was fine.

When he got back home he saw the grill sitting right where he instructed. It was a nice grill too. The kind you only saw in the homes of professional chefs on Food Network. He was impressed. Maybe the Selkie girl had more money working for Beauchamp than he assumed.

He went inside and put the donuts and beer up then went to his bathroom. There were signs that Sophie used it earlier. The shower was still wet, the towel on the floor damp and bearing her footprints. The mirror was clean too and she wiped out the sink.

He leaned on the counter and undid the buckles and straps on his prosthetic. For a moment, he hesitated. Touching the indentations and scars on his leg. He thought about the handsome and charismatic William who was the kind of man Sophie belonged with. Even if his leg was lame, fuck, at least he was still whole. At least his face wasn’t gnarled and strange. William could provide Sophie with comfort and warmth, Silas wasn’t even sure he could give Sophie anything worth her time.

Silas sighed, telling himself it was a bad day to be inside his head so much. When he got into the shower he noticed Sophie had left a few things behind. A bottle of shower gel, a razor, and a washcloth folded and hung over the shower rack.

He picked up the shower gel and sniffed it. The bottle said it was something frilly and fancy. Some blossom off the coast of Shangri-la or something. It smelled like the sea and clean towels, a hint of something fruity as well. It smelled like the master.

He turned the bottle over, seeing a long description on the back about the soap, how it was ‘hauntingly decadent” and “cunningly sensual”.

“Why the fuck does soap need adverbs?” He grumbled to himself, setting the bottle back on the shelf.

After a wash off he placed his prosthetic back on and changed. Putting on the new shirt he bought for himself. It was a black long sleeve shirt with a few snap buttons just under the collar. He hadn’t tried it on in store, just found something that he assumed was his size. It was a little tight, form fitting to him. The neckline was lower than he expected too, his thick chest hair exposed. He frowned, thinking how Sophie wouldn’t like a hairy creature like him, let alone his pooch belly.

He tied his hair back while it was still wet, and climbed the stairs. As he did he heard Sophie start coughing and gagging. The sink started to run as well.

Sophie was over the sink, swishing a water and using her nails to scrape at her tongue. Her hair was a wild mane of soft, free curls and waves. He was taken for a moment, he had only ever seen her with her hair up in a slicked back bun or a ponytail or braid. This was the first time he was seeing her with her down and styled. She looked like a siren, beckoning from the dangerous rocks.

Sophie spit into the sink and rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. “Fucking gross, ugh,” she stuck her tongue out as she turned around and as their eyes locked she froze that way. Her bright eyes grew wide and she looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh thit-”

Silas was doing everything in his power to not smile or laugh, it was actually causing him some great pain. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

Sophie sucked her tongue back into her mouth and screwed it up into a tight line. She glanced at the pepper shaker sitting on the counter then back to Silas. “No, nothing.” She tucked her hair away.

Sophie was trying to recall the list Isla gave her, yet as she looked over Silas she found it very hard to concentrate. Where had he been hiding that shirt? It showed off everything and yet not enough. She wanted to run her fingers through the hair peeking over the top of the collar. It was maddening. She pinched her thighs together and made herself concentrate.

“Do you feel like cooking yet?” She walked around the counter, revealing the dress she was wearing. Her long legs on full display for him. “I thought, maybe, if you didn’t wanna grill just yet we could have a beer or two and uhm…” She was frustrated at herself for not being more eloquent. She was always an eloquent speaker! “I have records!” She blurted in triumph when she glanced at to the crate. She motioned to the setup Isla did before she left.

“Yeah, sure,” he looked around the room, noticing the new weird lamps scattered about. “I have beer too,” Silas said, setting the box on the counter along with the box of donuts.

“You didn’t need to bring anything!” Sophie eyes the donuts, seeing her favorites were inside the box. “But thank you. I have mugs in the freezer.”

Actually, it was a tip from Isla.

“It was no trouble.” Silas said. 

Silas walked over to the record player, going through the stack of records sitting beside it. In the kitchen, Sophie popped the tops on two beers. Isla stole some fancy imported things from her father’s private reserve. She also took the tray of snacks from the fridge as well.

“You can pick whatever you want,” she said as she handed him a cold mug.

Silas’s eyes lingered over her for a moment. He'd seen her every day since the end of summer. He knew how she looked and yet he felt like he was looking at her for the first time. She was usually so on guard, so alert. The poor elf girl looked like a tightly wound rubberband. But right now, she looked soft and sweet. She was always elegant and beautiful, but now she looked like a work of art. 

Sophie set the tray on the table and curled up on the sofa, taking an apple slice that she pushed between her lips painted cherry red.

Since when did he notice lipstick? Silas thought to himself.

Silas chose an album and started it. He took back up the mug as the record started it’s warm crackled and the music faded into existence.  Silas took a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Sophie. They were close enough to touch, and yet they didn’t.

They sat in silence.

Sophie stole glances at him, enjoying his still damp hair along with the way his shirt hugged his body. She bit down on her cheek and drank her beer. Silas would look at her legs, which were thick compared to her slender top half. Her legs were curvy and long and they looked soft to touch. He chugged his beer to stop his thought.

The music was nice, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the awkward silence.

“The beer is good,” Silas broke the silence.

Sophie looked up to him and smiled. “Oh! Yeah it is,” her chuckle was a nervous one. “It tastes like uhm...coffee almost.”

“Shit coffee?” He chided.

Sophie laughed, inching closer. “I got some good coffee,” she replied. “In case we want some later.”

“For in the morning right?” Isla’s voice invaded her head.

“For the donuts,” Silas nodded back to the kitchen.

“What did you get,” Sophie turned her body towards him, tucking her legs up under herself, setting the beer on her thigh.

“Just a mix,” he muttered, feeling her eyes on him. He was trying hard not to stare at her. She was like the cherry and the whipped cream all at once. Red hair, lips, and dress. Pale creamy skin. It was a feast for the eyes and he was forcing himself not to indulge.

Sophie leaned her head onto her arm, her eyes following the line of his body. His shirt hugging him in all the right places. Riding up just enough she could see some skin between the top of his jeans and under his shirt. 

“The grill is nice,” Silas cleared his throat.

“You can keep it then, I think?” Sophie laughed. “I think Isla stole it from her parents and she doesn’t want to haul it back.”

Silas snorted and furrowed his brow at her. “What?”

Sophie shook her head. “Oh wow, that is an extremely long story you have no clue about!” She stretched her legs out as she relaxed. “Isla steals from her parents, like, all the time,” she chuckled. “I mean, they’re amazingly rich so they just buy new stuff to replace it, so Isla doesn’t have any moral quandaries about taking things from them.”

“I highly doubt that girl has any moral quandaries.” Silas was smiling, a slight chuckle escaping. “I’ve been wanting to ask, but what is it with her?”

“That’s a can of worms,” Sophie grinned, shaking her head. “She’s top of her class. Probably going to be valedictorian and everything. She’s honest. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had. As to why she acts the way she does…” she clicked her tongue, “I have no idea.”

Silas’ smile didn’t fade at all. “She’s in school to be a lawyer like you right?”

Sophie nodded. “Yup! And she’s really good at it too.”

“Oh dear god,” he laughed.

“She has plans,” Sophie set her beer down and reached for some sliced cheese. She offered it up to him. “Try it,it tastes great with the beer.”

He considered eating from her hand but at the last moment though he took it with his fingers. He then stood up as he ate it. “Where are the steaks?”

“In the fridge,” Sophie fetched them from the fridge, revealing to him the big meaty slabs.

“Did Isla steal a cow and butcher it herself?” Silas asked as he took the plate from her.

“You know, I’m not sure,” Sophie chuckled as she followed him downstairs. “While the steaks rest I’ll make the salads.”

Silas looked her over. “You know about that?”

“Salads?” Sophie smirked as they walked towards the grill.

He smiled at her and set the steaks aside, looking over the grill to see how it started. “No, the resting thing.”

“I watch Food Network like anyone else,” Sophie set their beers down on the windowsill.
Sophie ran the list through her head again.

Two: While the steaks are cooking continue banter and initiate close contact. While he’s at the grill he's cornered. He’s not going to allow anything to happen to the meat, so you’re free to inch in as close as you want. As for tips on how to grill and snuggle up close. Chat and laugh and be calm.

Sophie took a chug of her beer and sauntered over to the grill as Silas turned it on. He frowned at the flames inside but turned and felt a sudden wash of calm as Sophie came and stood beside him. 

“I’ve never used a grill before,” Sophie replied as she moved in a little closer. “Mind if I watch?”

“Doesn’t bother me,” he growled. “Did you season or do anything to the steaks?”

Sophie nodded. “Isla marinated, aside from that nothing.”

Silas was silent, watching as the charcoal started to smolder and burn. “This won’t take long if you like them rare.”

“I do,” Sophie inched in, her hand brushing against his hip.

Silas flinched, but he was grateful she was standing on his left. “You said you had a salad?” He asked, setting the steaks on the grill once the coals were hot enough.

“Just gotta chop and toss,” she replied. She was close enough she could smell his soap. “Also have great big potatoes in the oven. Got some very nice wine too,” she reached up, her fingers brushing against his jaw and his cheek as she tucked a dark lock behind his ear. “Donuts for dessert,” she smiled.

The tip of Silas’ ear turned bright red.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good steak. I’ve been eating awfully light since I moved.” Sophie sighed. “Too busy to cook anything so nice.”

“A treat for us both,” he turned the meat and was stunned to find he would rather look at her than the grill marks.

Sophie handed him his beer and he took it, allowing his fingers to linger on hers. It was a date, after all, she wouldn’t be angry for a touch here or there. She smelled good, her skin felt good, she looked so beautiful.

Had he told her that? Had he said anything at all about how amazing she looked and how she took his breath away? Silas’ thoughts ran wild.

“How rare do you enjoy your meat?” He asked instead.

Sophie glanced back up at him. “Oh uhm...mooing,” she giggled.

“Mooing,” he nodded and looked back to the grill.

Sophie inched in even closer pretending to watch the meat, but she was pressing close to feel his body against hers. His arm moved behind them to allow her room, and while he struggled with where to put his hand, he finally rested it against the small of her back.

Sophie’s lips parted at the touch and she tucked away the smile that wanted to blossom across her face. She didn’t want to seem too eager.

“Go on up and start the salad,” Silas replied, making her stomach drop a little bit. “These will be done in no time.”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” she went to move away, his hand still on her back. “Anything you don’t want on yours?”

“Onion,” he looked at her. “Gives me heartburn.”

“Not much of a fan either,” she stepped away, his hand moving as she walked inside.

Even though she was gone, her perfume lingered. It stayed on his skin, his clothes. Even with the delicious smell of the steak and the smoke, her perfume was stronger still. He had touched her and she didn’t move away, in fact, she had moved in closer.



When Silas came up the stairs with the steaks, Sophie was just plating their salads and setting them on the table. The lights were off, save for the strange new ones that he noticed earlier. They were dim, glowing about as bright as a candle would if they were lit. It was a surprise to him that she didn’t have any candles, the master always had candles.

Silas set the steaks on the counter and reached down to pet Persephone who was sitting in wait. Her tail wagged and she pushed against his palm, but her eyes were elsewhere.

“What sort of dressing do you like?” Sophie asked as she reached into the fridge.

“Yours-ah,” he shook his head, “whatever you pick is fine.”

He walked towards the record player as Sophie was setting down the bottle and placing out silverware. He switched the record, playing something else. The song low and slow, something breathy and warm. He came towards Sophie and took her hand.

“Is something-” she stopped as he took her other hand and guided her, moving in a way that at first she didn’t understand what he was doing. When his hand came to rest at her waist she knew then.

He was asking her to dance.

Sophie was breathless for a moment, forgetting how to move her body at all. Silas was touching her, leading her to the slow music. She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. His gray eye focused upon her.

Sophie smiled, putting her arms around his neck and pressing close to him. “I didn’t take you as a dancer,” she murmured as she looked up at him. The red from the tip of his ear bleeding down across his cheeks and up the bridge of his nose.

“Not usually,” he grumbled as he spun her to the swell of the music. “I just...a girl looking like you do…” He wasn’t sure how to get his words out right.

Sophie understood him, though, even if he couldn’t get it out. She was starting to rise up on tiptoes, kissing his jaw, maybe the corner of his lips. She glanced over his shoulder and gasped.

“Persephone!” She snapped.

Silas spun around, one hand still on her waist, watching as Persephone grabbed onto one of the steaks and ran away with it like a bat out of hell.

Sophie stood there stunned for a moment, her hand cupped over her mouth. Silas stared down at her, unsure how to act.

They both started laughing hard. Tears in Sophie’s eyes as she held onto her sides and leaned into him, his arms wrapping around her.

“Oh god! Oh...oh I am so sorry!” Sophie coughed as she tried to catch her breath, her hand on his side. “She’s never that bad!”

“Those steaks are big enough,” he was wiping the tears from his own eyes. “We can share one.”

“Oh!” Sophie shook her head. “Oh, that’s so bad!” She looked up at him, both still convulsing with laughter. His hand touched her cheek, her fingers found bare skin between his shirt and pants. Their laughter was quiet as they kissed and the record crackled as tracks switched.

They parted and looked at each other for a long moment, both contemplating another kiss or something else.

“We should eat before she comes back for seconds,” Silas swallowed.

Sophie wiped away her lipstick from his mouth.“Yeah-yes!” She stepped away and went back to the kitchen. “I’ll get the potatoes out then.”

Silas took a knife and cut the steak in half, laying one on her plate and then the other on his as she brought out the steaming potatoes, her hands in oven mitts.

“I can’t believe she did that!” Sophie huffed as she slapped the oven mitts onto the counter. “She’s not done something like that since she was a puppy.” She moved her hair out of her face.

“She was making sure we didn’t overeat,” Silas smiled.

She returned the smile and sat down. “As long as he intentions are good.”

Things were silent again as they prepared their salad and baked potatoes and began eating. Under the table, in the small space, they tried to keep their legs tucked under. Every so often, though, they touched, bumped. Sophie realized how close he was and wondered if a game of footsie was over the line.

“This is a good steak,” Silas said.

She giggled, “she knows a good hunk of meat when she sees one.” She moved with caution, sliding her foot up his leg to drive the point home.

Silas yanked his leg back, realizing she was touching his prosthetic. “Yes, well…” he shrugged.

Sophie tucked her feet back in, she tried at least. She then jumped up and hit her knee, rattling the table. “Ow!”

Silas stood to assist her. “Are you-”

“I forgot the wine!” She whimpered, holding her knee.

Silas scoffed and gave her a smile. “It’s all right, just save it for later. Make sangrias next time.”

Her heart threatened popping out her chest. Next time? Did he want a 'next-time'? Was everything going well?

“If you’re sure,” she slid back into her seat and continued to finish her plate.

They were silent again until Sophie finished her plate. She moved to take their empty dishes but he snatched them away. “I’ll do them.”

“No, no, it’s fine I can-” she watched as he walked away from her, heading to the sink. “Hey!” She stopped herself from banging her knee again and she chased him into the kitchen. “This was all my idea,” she huffed as she stood beside him at the sink, attempting to push him out of place but losing.

“You’re my date! I can do the dishes,” she pushed on his side. "I don't even have hot water! Just what's in the jug!"

“Just a handful,” he replied as he worked.

Sophie sighed and conceded, “I’ll just make the coffee then,” she said and moved away, missing the smile that blossomed on Silas’s face.

She approached him with the coffee carafe and nudged him. “I need water, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir,” he growled. “And you’ll need to pay the toll.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Oh yeah? And why do I need to pay a toll at my own sink?”

“Rules,” he set a dish to dry.

Sophie was nearly bouncing in place with excitment. “What’s the toll then?”

His hand was on her face again, damp and cool from the water, his lips touching hers for a too brief moment before he pulled away and took the carafe away and filled it. Placing it back into her hands.

“Toll paid,” he grumbled.

“No…” Sophie murmured as she tried to gain her balance back.

“Make the fucking coffee,” he chuckled, his insides lurching and threatening to riot after that act of defiance.

She did, with her hands shaking as she poured the water in the back. When she licked her lips she could taste him almost. A slight something that wasn’t the meal. She hadn’t expected him to make the first move like that, she hadn’t really expected a kiss at all.

“I like that brand,” Silas growled from behind her, “don’t fuck it up.”

“Hey now,” she scoffed as she spun around and looked up at him. He was closer than she expected. “You...you shouldn’t be so picky.” She reached up, cupping his face. Her cool fingers against his burnt and melted skin made his heart stop beating.

“You should learn to be pickier,” Silas whispered.

“I like my tastes, and I have my reasons for liking them,” she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Pressing her lips and body against him, her fingers slipping back and into his hair. His hands wrapped around her waist and held her close.

“Mm,” Sophie moaned as she pulled back. She giggled and met his gaze, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a...for a long time.”

He scoffed, “you’re a bad liar for a wannabe lawyer.”

She looped her arms around his neck. “You just don’t like to hear the truth.”

“The truth is all I want to hear,” he growled then glanced beside them, seeing Persephone looking up at them with an opened mouth grin. “There she is.”

Sophie scowled, “bad girl Persephone! Bad!”

Persephone wagged her tail.

“She looks awful worried,” he reached around Sophie and began fixing his cup of coffee.

They took the coffee and donuts into the living room. They laid out on the sofa, talking sometimes and being silent when they listened to the music. Sophie was able to worm her way in close to him and cuddle up into his side like Persephone did. They changed records a couple of times, their position on the sofa changing, but they weren’t afraid of being close.

Silas set down his empty mug. “It’s getting late, I should probably go.”

Sophie didn’t want him to go. “You can stay, I’ll make more-”

“It’s late,” he growled. “And I’m afraid of staying longer.” His fingers pushed her hair behind her ear.

Sophie caught the gist of what he was sayin and she put her hands over his. “I’m not ready for the day to be over.”

Silas held her hand back, kissing her palm then kissed her again, pressing her back into the sofa and bearing down on top of her, kissing her lips and jaw, her neck. Sophie clung to him, taking every kiss. His rough lips dragged her neck and she threw her head back to allow him more skin. Her leg stroking down his side, his hip, his thigh. Silas then pulled away just as quickly. 

“It’s late, little master.” Silas was frustrated and unwilling to part from her.

She was catching her breath, almost not catching his nickname. “Little master?”

Silas was standing, taking the mugs to the kitchen. “Thank you for tonight.”

Sophie pouted, holding a pillow in place of him. “It was for me just as much as it was for you.” She looked up at him and stood to catch him. “Thank you for indulging me.”

He caught her first, grabbing her hand. “It’ll be my treat next time,” he said hopefully, still doubting his own prowess.

He said it again, Sophie thought as a grin spread across her face.

“Of course,” she swallowed. She reached up and wiped the red lipstick on his face. “Hopefully, someone won’t eat half our dinner again.”

Silas cupped her cheek, wanting to stay and finish the night with her. He had to make himself leave, though, he wasn’t ready for what staying would bring. “Good night.”

“Will you be around in the morning?” Sophie was eager to keep him, to make him stay, or find a way to see him again fast. “We can finish those donuts.”

Silas didn’t want to leave and he felt relieved at Sophie’s eagerness. “Since you didn’t fuck up this coffee, I’ll see.”

Sophie kissed him, holding onto the sides of his shirt. It felt so good to kiss and grab and hold. Then have all those things happen back. She pulled herself away and smiled, breathless again. “Just come up, whenever.” She released him and watched him disappear back down the stairs.

She bit her lip, hoping she didn’t come off as too eager. Perhaps it was good he was the behaved one. If she got her way she could’ve gone too far. She felt herself blush, her body going warm all over as the thought resurfaced. Not having the wine was a good idea. A little inhibition gone and she could have mounted him and kept him all night.

She smiled, though, happy with the night and anxious for the morning to come so she could kiss him again.