The Only Exception

5. Shared Walls

She wandered toward the living room and found him there.

Not at the desk.

Not in the gym.

But seated on the couch, one arm stretched along the backrest, one knee up, a book half-open on his lap. He looked up when she entered — slow, deliberate.

"You can't sleep?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't trying."

"Is that a real book or one of your boring economic reports?"

"It's about cities and power," he said.

"So boring."

Alaz gave her a look. "I'll have you know this book won awards."

"Sounds like a crime against humanity."

"You're welcome to go back to bed."

She walked forward instead. "Your couch is comfy."

"Is it?"

"I've decided," she said, plopping beside him, "this is now my reading corner. It's no longer yours."

Alaz smirked. "Possession is theft."

"I'm stealing it. Arrest me."

She was close now — her knee brushing his. Her sweater slipping slightly off one shoulder. Her hair damp from a shower, falling down her back like silk.

He watched her.

She saw the way his eyes dipped to her collarbone, to the edge of skin exposed.

"Do you want me to turn the music off?" she asked, voice softer now.

"No."

She nodded. "Me neither."

They sat like that for a while — not talking, not moving. The space between them full of tension so sharp it could've cut glass.

Then she stretched — arms over her head, shirt riding up again, baring a sliver of stomach.

Alaz shifted slightly.

"You do that on purpose," he said.

"Do what?"

"You know what."

"I don't," she said, tilting her head. "But I'd love for you to explain."

He didn't.

Instead, he reached out — slowly — and hooked a finger into the hem of her sweater, pulling it down gently so it covered her again.

The heat that shot through her was instant.

She exhaled, shaky. Their eyes locked.

"I should go to bed," she said, not moving.

"Should you?"

Her voice dropped. "Do you want me to stay?"

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

His eyes burned with everything he wasn't saying.

She swallowed, heartbeat pounding.

Then slowly, without a word, she stood up and walked away.

Her steps were slow. Deliberate.

She didn't look back.

But she knew he was watching.

*

The car ride started with a sigh — Asi's, of course.

"I still don't get why we have to take your car every time," she said, shifting in the passenger seat and crossing her legs with theatrical flair. "My car works perfectly fine. She's loyal. She's compact. She doesn't ask for much."