Chapter 114
The library feels peaceful, almost surreal, as Harley continues to unpack her newest additions to her novel collection. The soft light from the windows catches on the edges of the bookshelves and casts long shadows across the room as the golden late–afternoon sun filters in. The smell of the books—a mixture of aged paper, leather, and faint dust–hangs in the air, soothing in its familiarity. The room is quiet except for the occasional rustle of pages and the slight creak of the wooden floors beneath her feet as she moves to and fro,
1 watch her, still marveling at the fact that she’s here, in my space, making it feel like more than just an empty apartment now. The dark leather chairs near the fireplace, the shelves filled with books I haven’t touched in decades, and the thick, textured rug beneath my feet all feel less sterile with her here. It feels almost…alive. The library is not only a room in my apartment anymore; it’s a piece of her that’s slowly taking root.
She sips her coffee, lost in the pages of a book she’s cradling in her hand, and 1 can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. The soft clink of her cup as she sets it down on the small side table next to her blends with the faint background hum of the city outside–the quiet rush of life continuing just beyond the windows. I’m happy–unbelievably so and yet, there’s a quiet undercurrent of tension in me that I can’t seem to shake. The conversation we had earlier, about me turning her, is still hanging in the air between us. I know she’s not ready to make a decision, but that doesn’t stop me from admitting how badly 1 want her to stay. And not just for me, but for us.
“You know,” she says, breaking through my thoughts, her voice light and teasing, “I always thought first editions were a bit over the top. But I have to admit, you’ve got good taste, Draeven.”
I chuckle softly, then step over to my desk again and ease back down into my chair. “I’ve been known to have my moments,” I reply, watching her as she flips through the pages of the next book, her eyes twinkling with amusement. There’s an easy, comfortable silence between us–the kind that only happens when you’re fully at ease in someone’s presence. It’s rare for me, but with her, it feels almost natural.
“But really, you’re the one with the good taste,” I add, my voice smooth and teasing. “I’m just here for the view,
She rolls her eyes at me, unable to suppress a smile. “Always so charming,” she replies dryly, but her voice softens when she adds, “You know, I never thought I’d meet a guy who’d go all out to gift me books. No one has ever cared that much about my “bookworm” tendencies”
“Well, I figured if I’m going to try and be part of your world, I should learn about it, I say, my tone a mix of sincerity and tenderness that is meant only for her.
She slightly shakes her head at that, and says i wistfully, “Not sure why I’m still surprised by you.”
I shift in my chair, unsure of how long I’ll be able to hold back the storm that’s building inside me. I can’t seem to stop watching her. The way her eyes light up when she talks about something she loves, or the way her fingers brush the edges of every book’s pages as if she’s savoring each word. It’s all too perfect, too fragile, and it scares me.
But then I hear the soft click of my front door shutting, and I freeze, with every muscle in my body immediately tensing.
Harley notices the change in my demeanor immediately because she’s as in tune with me as I am with her, and tilts her head slightly as she looks up at me from her book. Then her eyes narrow, sensing my unease, and she asks, “What’s wrong?”
Before I can tell her who she can expect to walk through the door any second now, the library door creaks open, and Griffin steps in without su much as a knock, like usual. I can’t help the slight irritation that sputters in my chest, but I remind myself that until now, Griffin could come and
as he pleased. He didn’t expect het here, so he wasn’t aware he would be interrupting something.
His gaze lands on me almost immediately, and our eyes lock briefly, before his too–perceptive chocolate–brown orbs Blick from mine to where Harley’s standing off to the side.
And when his eyes land on her, I see a spark of surprise before his face softens for a gument, but he quickly masks it with that trademark smirk. of his “Well, well, well, look who’s made herself at home,” he drawls, crossing the room towards her.
Griffin then shrugs, his smirk never leaving his face as he teases, “I just didn’t think you’d be so…settled in already.”
He’s just trying to break the tension like usual, and I’m too tired to fight it. Harley, the ball. Instead, she responds with a playful wink, “You’re just jealous he didn’t gin
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