1.1 | constellations of you and me ✓

11 | vela

He's here, she thinks abruptly. Holy shit, he's actually here.

"Mierda," Chase swears violently.

"Ah, fuck."

"Get up. Get up—now!"

Her friends have to literally kick her off of the mattress, and Eloise is stumbling to the door as she slips on white, casual sneakers. There's a slight tremble to the inside of her palms as she opens the door, and she feels like she's frozen in time—like sweet adrenaline is rushing through all of her nerve endings all at once, desperate and warm and consuming. His eyes flash with obsidian lightning and thunderstorms, the smell of smoky cologne pulling at her like a glowing tether. And he's so beautiful that it hurts to look at him, because she knows that to her, no one else will ever compare.

"Hey, Jonah."

***

The sky speaks quietly as his car moves smoothly across darkened pavement. With the windows rolled down and the wind slipping in and out of honeyed dips of shoulders and collarbones, Eloise lets one hand dangle carelessly. Violet specks in the distant horizon seduce moonlit clouds, and she feels the city's restlessness—nightlife, frenzied clubs, reggaeton. Eloise spends a silent moment to take it all in, absorbing everything wild and free and euphoric as she tilts her head towards the driver.

His hair is classically tangled (like always), and an electric thrill shoots down the base of her spine as she memorizes the way he looks tonight. He looks good, Eloise smiles to herself. And then: he always looks good. With slightly distressed black jeans paired with an equally dark casual jacket, Jonah Kim is the epitome of a sparkling vision. The curve of his jaw is prominent against flirting shadows and soft caresses of sun rays, and her fingers itch to smooth themselves over high cheekbones and the straightness of his nose.

Even now, Eloise's heart races underneath the thin silk of her dress and she wishes she brought a jacket, but it's a strange feeling—to feel hot and cold at the same time, silver and gold entwining together in an intense dance.

Jonah reaches towards the dashboard and turns the volume down as he smiles at her. Slender sunglasses hang from the collar of his shirt, tugging the fabric down ever so slightly so that she can see the smooth expanse of tanned skin.

"I missed you." Voice low. Tone soft.

She leans back in her chair and aligns her body so that she's turned towards him. The car slows to a stop and Jonah eyes slip to the thin strap that's falling off of one shoulder, tops of his ears blushing a vivid crimson. Eloise admires this most: that despite the occasional bursts of seductive confidence, he's just as nervous and tentative as she is.

He reaches out with his right hand and grazes the tips of her fingertips with his own—a silent request.

She accepts. Something tightens in her chest as their palms press against each other, and there's something so exquisite, so intimate about holding someone else's hand that the air completely evaporates from within her lungs.

Eloise brushes a thumb across his silver ring. "I saw you two days ago," she laughs softly.

He shoots a grin her way, one foot pressing on the gas pedal as they start to leave the cluttered nightlife behind. Confusion blooms inside of her mind (in all honesty, Eloise was expecting a restaurant) and she looks out the window for a hint of direction.

"Doesn't mean I can't miss you," Jonah murmurs. He squeezes her hand with just enough pressure that she snaps back to reality and twists his ring as an apology.