She's not mine. But I want her to be.
Liana
Luca was saying something funny.
I think.
Everyone was laughing.
I was too. Late by a beat. But it felt nice. Like I was part of something.
The glass in my hand was almost empty.
It tasted like candy.
Sweet. Sharp. Cold.
Alex leaned over. "You okay?"
I nodded, too fast. "It's really good."
She laughed. "I told you. It's basically lemonade for adults."
Except now the lights felt brighter. Or maybe my eyes were slow.
My face felt warm. My chest light.
Across the table, Elias was watching me.
He hadn't touched his beer.
He hadn't said much either.
Just… watched.
His jaw looked tense.
Or maybe that was just how it always looked.
Luca made another joke. I didn't catch the whole thing, but I laughed anyway.
Then I swayed a little. The barstool wobbled more than I expected.
"Whoa." I grabbed the counter.
Alex's hand steadied my arm. "You sure you're good?"
"I'm fine," I said. "I just… I think my legs are drunk."
That made her laugh.
Behind her, Elias stood up.
He walked around the table.
Stopped beside me.
His voice was low. Controlled. "You're done for the night."
I blinked. "What?"
"No more drinks. Let's go."
"But I—"
He crouched a little so only I could hear.
"You're flushed, unfocused, and swaying. You've had enough."
My smile faded. "I'm sorry…"
He shook his head. "You don't need to be sorry."
He offered a hand.
I stared at it for a second.
Then took it.
His palm was warm. Steady as always.
I didn't want to let go.
Elias
She was too light.
That's what he noticed first.
When he helped her off the stool, her balance shifted and she leaned against him like her bones forgot how to hold weight.
She was smiling at nothing. Eyes half-lidded. Lips pink from the drink.
He guided her out of the bar with a hand on her lower back.
One of the guys whistled.
Elias turned. Stared. Just stared.
The guy shut up.
When they got to the truck, she slid into the passenger seat and curled up like a cat.
She glanced over. "You didn't drink."
"No."
"You don't drink?"
"I don't drink when I'm on guard."
Her laugh was soft. Fuzzy. "I'm not a mission."
He didn't answer.
She leaned her head against the window. "I used to think alcohol was bad."
"It's not good for you," he said.
"I feel warm," she mumbled.
"You're flushed."
"Is that why you were staring?"
His knuckles tightened on the wheel.
"No."
Silence.
Then—
"I like your voice."
"Liana…"
She didn't stop. "You sound like...someone who always knows what to do."
"I don't."
"You do for me."
His throat locked.
They didn't speak the rest of the way home.
At the house
She stumbled a little getting out of the truck.
He caught her.
Lifted her.
She didn't protest.
Just wrapped her arms around his neck.
"You smell like...Elias."
"That's because I am Elias."
She giggled into his shirt.
He carried her inside.
Set her gently on the bed.
She reached up. Touched his cheek.
"I like when you're here."
He closed his eyes.
"Liana. You need to sleep."
She pulled on his sleeve. "Can you stay?"
He froze.
You can't.
You really, really can't.
She's drunk. Vulnerable. Yours to protect.
But she looked up at him like he was the safest place she knew.
So he sat. At the edge of the bed.
She leaned against his shoulder. Breath soft. Warm.
She whispered, "I think you're my favorite person."
His heart nearly shattered.
She doesn't know what she's saying. It's the drink.
She shifted closer. Pressed her forehead to his chest. And stayed there.
He didn't move. Didn't blink.
Just stared ahead, listening to the sound of her breath.
This is wrong.
This is dangerous.
This is everything I've ever wanted.
He didn't kiss her.
Didn't touch her beyond what she allowed.
But he didn't leave either.
When she finally fell asleep, tangled up in his side, he whispered against her hair:
"You have no idea what you're doing to me."
And stayed right there.
All night.
Eyes open.
Heart wrecked.