…I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
--"The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot—
His dark eyes had stared intensely into hers. She had seen his intentions, the flickering of his attention to her lips. Blood rushed to her face and butterflies erupted in her stomach. She wouldn't have fought off his advance; no she would have welcomed it. But suddenly those dark eyes had lightened. The longing had remained, but along with it came surprise and panic. He seemed to struggle with himself, but when he blinked his hand fell.
"You're cold," he commented and then leaned back, switching on the heat as he did.
She could only watch, confused. Had he changed his mind? She had felt for sure that he was going to kiss her, but—
The lights of the wrecker behind them saved her momentarily from the discomfort that had fallen in the car, a feeling of unresolved tension that crawled across her skin. She shed Jonathan's coat and stepped from the sedan. Yet, it was only for a short time; all she did was direct the wrecker to a mechanic and then she was once again back in the vehicle with Jonathan who seemed even more uncomfortable than before. She fingered the material of his jacket.
"You can put it back on, Ms. Albright, I actually don't know why you took it off in the first place. Now you're even more wet." He didn't even look at her, but glanced from the corner of his eyes.
She drew it over her shoulders, "I guess I didn't want to get it wet any more than I already had." Jonathan didn't say anything to that. She felt the motor purr and then he was pulling back into the roadway.
"Where am I taking you?"
"I live in the apartment complex off Vine Street, do you know where that is?"
Jonathan nodded, but said nothing more. Becky huddled into his jacket, secretly soothed by the scents that surrounded her. The smells of Arkham faintly covered the material: alcohol and antibacterial soap, but more than anything the damp material was permeated with the smell of his fabric softener. She peered over the rim of his collar; it was still uncomfortable in the vehicle. She clenched the cloth even tighter around her.
"What fabric softener do you use?"
Her question almost seemed to be sucked into the silence, but she noticed Jonathan's brow furrow above his newly replaced glasses. She swallowed thickly. "It smells very nice."
"…Snuggle," Jonathan answered slowly after a moment, "White Lavender and Sandalwood Twist…"
Becky hummed in response and then quieted again. That hadn't worked, it seemed. She sank lower in her seat. Had she seemed too surprised at his advance? Did he think she would reject him? Was he acting so distant because he thought she didn't want him? Her fingers twitched in their grasp at each question. She glanced back at Jonathan and noticed his stare drift to her before swiftly returning to the road.
She was going to have to do something, and the fluttering in her stomach told her exactly what. Instantly anxiety began to gnaw at her, but she would do it. She'd show him just how she felt about him.
She tried to ignore the voice telling her that maybe she was presuming too much, the whisper that said maybe he was acting that way because he actually didn't like her. She was going to take the risk, and deal with that situation if it raised its head.
When he pulled into the parking garage of her apartment building and put the car in park momentarily, she took a deep breath. It was now or never. She shrugged off his jacket and offered him a smile.
"Thanks for the ride." But instead of turning away she turned towards him and leaning forward cupped his cheeks in both her hands. He gasped and she saw his eyes widen. She wouldn't be discouraged, though. She looked into those eyes until she was a breath away and then closed her own, gently pressing her lips to his.