The Imitation Game ✓

TWENTY-ONE | IT ONLY TAKES A TASTE, PT. II

He wasn't sure yet if he felt like belonged or not.

On a regular Sunday night, he would be by himself in his apartment doing something totally mundane. Cooking dinner for himself. Talking to his sister on the phone, probably. Maybe drawing or reading a book. He purposely tried to give off the air of being a much more interesting person than he actually was, but the truth was that most of the time, he would much prefer to be by himself than at some party with a group of strangers. He'd outgrown the mindset that feeding off of random people's energy was going to make him feel any better about himself.

The familiar faces from Illicit Affairs all made their rounds to greet Rasmus and Cora, of course. They got dragged into a very long conversation with their producers; Anne and the whole creative team came to say hi. But none of these people could stick around to talk for very long when literally everyone at the party wanted to congratulate them for their win.

Eventually, when he'd had as much champagne as he was comfortable drinking and Cora had just a few droplets left in her glass, he leaned over and quietly asked, "Wanna get out of here?"

He didn't entirely know why he was asking her to come with him instead of going off on his own. But she was a familiar face and being all by himself on what was meant to be such a joyous occasion sounded kind of depressing.

Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him, as if leaving was something scandalous. "And go where? What if someone comes looking for us?"

"I don't think we're being babysat, Cora," he pointed out. "And we can always come back—we don't even have to leave the building. I think there's a lounge area by the pool if you want some fresh air."

She shrugged a little bit. "Alright, I guess it doesn't hurt to check if we can go up there."

After sneaking out to the elevator with an unnecessary amount of stealth—in reality, no one was likely to be paying them any attention—they discovered that pool access oddly didn't require a room key. Rasmus clicked the button numbered 28 and Cora finished off the last dregs of her wine as they ascended to the twenty-eighth floor.

Stepping out of the elevator brought them to the bar, which was very abandoned at present since all the bartenders were busy dealing with the chaos downstairs. He could see through the glass wall that the pool deck was also empty, but the door to the outside opened with ease when he pushed on it.

A faint whistle slid out of his lips. Even for New York, the view was impressive. They were high up enough here that the view wasn't just the sides of other skyscrapers—it was the rest of Manhattan sprawling out in front of and beneath them. He walked over to the glass railing that surrounded the entire pool deck and leaned his forearms on it, enjoying the peace and quiet after a day that had been very loud.

"This was a good idea," Cora hummed from a few feet to his side; it was only then that he noticed she'd joined him.

"I tend to be full of those."

"I'd disagree with you on that one," she teased, but the lightness of the smile she gave him made it clear that it was all in good fun.

A grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked at her. Her lipstick was starting to fade a little bit and the waves in her hair were falling more loosely now that several hours had passed, but God, she was still gorgeous. Infuriatingly gorgeous.

But then he noticed that her face was looking pale again, her cheeks missing their usual rosy hue. He frowned—he'd thought she looked ill earlier because she was anxious, but that didn't explain what was happening now.

"Did you eat dinner?" he asked suddenly.

It was Cora's turn to frown. She stared at him in confusion. "Why?"