Around The Block
He'd never expected to run into her, standing outside a car full of raucous acquaintances, but her face lights like the sunrise when she spots him. Friends forgotten she rushes to his side and, with a coy smile, asks if he would walk her home. The sun is peeking above the horizon, the group is noisily engaged in piling into the overfull cab, and she is staring at him with such a wide-eyed expression of hope that he didn't dare turn her down.
It isn't until 3 blocks later that he speaks.
"I'm not sure I've ever seen you drunk." He muses, watching her unsteady footsteps as she keeps pace with him.
"I try not to be," She says with a sly half-smile. "I lose my inhibitions."
He doesn't respond, the only evidence he heard the ticking muscle in his jaw. There is a long moment of silence before he rasps "You have inhibitions?"
Her laughter echoes in the empty streets. "A few," she finally manages.
There is something shy about her tonight, not quite reticent but almost. As they walk their shoulders brush and she leans into him just slightly before swaying away.
It has always been like this, he thinks. Their orbits drawing them ever closer to one another, only to swing apart before long. The closer they become, the harder it is to breath. The more difficult it becomes to keep himself steady; to maintain barriers constructed carefully over years. They will crash together eventually and he knows she's the only one who will remain standing.
She sways in close again and his hand on her elbow elicits a hiss of breath from her and they stop abruptly. The lamplight floods over them and her face is upturned. Her eyes are dark and the red bow of her lips beckon him.
It is his turn to rock forward but he catches himself. Her loose grin turns sad for a moment, and he slides his thumb over the soft skin at the bend in her elbow. Her dark head bobs and she swallows.
They are finally on the same path, he knows. Phryne still careening wildly but ever so often stopping to check his progress. He is getting there and she's not running nearly as fast.
Every once in a while, they are perfectly in step and he thinks it would be possible stare at her face tamps down the urge to push the sharp point of her hair from her cheek and instead searches her bottomless eyes.
He thinks he might love her and more frightening, he thinks she might love him too.
It is usually at this moment when one of them bolts, backs away with a laugh and a witty phrase and they settle into their assigned roles. He, amused resignation. She, airy non-committance.
Only he is tired of the ever-increasing distance when they break apart, momentum carrying them further each time and he knows his heart cannot stand it to lose her again. Even as he knows his heart cannot stand to have her.
It takes him a moment to realize her fingers are clutching the material of his overcoat and her expression has turned almost desperate.
"I don't mean to drive you away." It spills from her lips and for a moment he is afraid she will weep. She doesn't, of course, but the quaver in her voice still rocks him deeply. "Don't go."
The iron grip she has on her soft heart slips for just a moment and, as she realizes what she has said, she makes as if to step away. His grip tightens on her elbow.
Not this time. He isn't sure he's said it aloud although her eyes are ringed in white when he leans forward and kisses her cheek, the point of her hair tickling his lips.
Her breath shudders against his skin and her fingers twine in the lapels of his coat. If she dragged him into her arms, her bedroom, right now, he would not object.
But they would both be sorry eventually. Shame and regret have no place between them, now.
The path is long and winding, but for the first time he is fairly assured that she intends to stay on it with him. Confidence restored, she backs away but pulls him with her and once again they start off in the direction of their destination. The cheeky grin she shoots him over her shoulder reminds him that at least it won't be boring. And so he follows her home, follows her to the gate and listens to her hum as she gathers the bottles of milk and lets herself in the front door.
He doesn't notice the boy push past him a moment later.
He can only think of her skin against his lips and how, soon, he will feel it again.
A/N: Did they sleep together, didn't they sleep together. What has changed? Intimacy isn't just physical.