They walk side by side to the closest genetic hotel. The wind had picked up as night fell and the chill stung his overly warm cheeks. They remained silent after leaving the bar; easily matching each others strides as they walked so close their arms brushed.
Liam briefly considered taking her hand but quickly dismissed the sweet gesture. There was something clandestine and rebellious within their practicality. If his brother could see him now, if Paul had any idea what was about to take place. With alcohol making him feel invincible he wanted his brother to see it all, wanted to be the one causing the pain for once. He'd spent his whole damn life in the shadow of his liar of a brother and he was about to step out in a spectacularly cruel fashion.
It almost seemed like the perfect punishment for Paul but he pushed that thought away quickly before it could render him impotent in more ways than one. It would be counter productive to make it all about his bother when he was meant to be escaping. Instead he sneaks glances at Carla like a nervous school boy. He likes the way the shorter pieces of hair around her face refused to stay behind her ear. Later he vowed to brush them gently away from her cheeks.
And then she turns and looks at him with lazily drunken hooded eyes, her teeth grazing her lower lip and suddenly his sweeter thoughts are combined with urges just to shove her into the nearest dark corner and fuck her against the wall. But instinctively he knows that they are more important and he wants to savour every little taste, needed to be able to see her eyes.
He was always amazed at how she could turn his thoughts inside out at such dizzying speeds. Loved the way she challenged him and never slowed down even though at times he found her confusing or even insane. The nights they spent drinking and talking had been some of his best; he found himself surprised that within the sarcasm and dirty jokes it was a self confirming experience. He liked himself around her, only for that same old feeling of futileness to return with his brother's entrance. He hated the way Paul would kiss Carla's forehead as he greeted her with equal measure to how his brother talked of their sex life in such great detail.
Somehow he becomes so lost in his own thoughts that he stumbles when they reach their destination. But Carla's eyes narrow and her hips sway as she approaches the reception and orders them a room. With her strength and the silent promise of what was to come it didn't matter that they were under the knowing scrutiny of the hotel staff.
And then she was turning to face him, room key clenched in her raised fist like a victory. Her heavily made up eyes were hard and dark under the overly bright lights and she was the one achingly real thing in a place that felt like quickly passing fiction. He wanted her so much. Wanted to have and to be what she represented.
She had spent a life time being apologetically defiant and so beautiful in her contradiction of strength and vulnerability than seemed physically impossible. If he could touch her, if he could crawl inside her then maybe he could share her secret. Maybe he could find absolution.