Chapter Text
Isaac knew that going out the night before the semester started was a Nevermore faculty tradition. It was just one he had been able to avoid up until this point in his teaching career.
He wasn’t sure where he had gone wrong this time. His usual excuses to Larissa had fallen on deaf ears. So despite arguing that he needed to finish his lesson plans (Larissa knew he had them completed weeks ago), that he just really wasn’t feeling well (she just rolled her eyes at that), or the famous “I need to work on my thesis!” (even he knew that one was a stretch), he was dragged along with the rest of his halfwit coworkers for the infamous “Educator’s Thursday” special at a bar called the Hornet’s Nest.
At least Larissa had gotten them there early enough that he could take a place in the corner booth up against the wall, looking out on the crowded bar around him. He never liked having his back to the door, and he was able to blend in a bit more easily under the gaudy neon bar signs decorating the walls. He nursed his drink, some gin cocktail Larissa slid into his hand before he could object. He wasn’t prone to drinking, but at this point in the night it might be the only thing that got him through.
He made small talk with the faculty members who stopped by his table, attempting to remember their names and subjects and succeeding most of the time. He had never gotten the point of being social with them. They were colleagues–wasn’t that enough?
He supposed they all did generally live near each other, in the faculty apartments Nevermore provided to anyone who needed them. While a lot of the older faculty had homes nearby, most of the younger ones populated the west tower. His nephew worked at the school as well, but he didn’t see any sign of him tonight. He was most likely in the biology lab, cozying up to Professor Addams.
The night dragged on, the bar only becoming more packed as Larissa made her rounds. She was good at this, working on the administrative side of Nevermore and regularly smoothing over blow ups with cranky donors and helicopter parents. He knew he was lucky, that she was unflappable no matter how cold and cutting he could be. Despite his regular poor attitude, she was still his friend, genuinely. Sometimes Isaac felt like she was the only person who knew him anymore. Especially since last year.
He took another sip. The ice melted long ago, watering it down. Vlad, the fencing coach, ordered a round of shots for the bar, so Larissa ended up carrying back two shot glasses full of a clear liquid.
He raised an eyebrow as she placed it down in front of him, but Larissa shot back one of her best withering looks, usually reserved for students who had severely disappointed her.
“I’m shocked you haven’t tried to escape yet,” she says, lifting her own shot glass up to tap lightly against his, before quickly downing it. Somehow she managed to make everything she did look elegant. It took everything in him to not immediately spit his back out.
“I figured you would just drag me back in” he mutters, putting the now empty glass down and wiping at his mouth. Larissa smiles.
“By your earlobes!” She giggles, reaching out to pinch his cheek, which he quickly swats away. Isaac rolls his eyes, but he also doesn’t doubt her for a second.
She slides into the booth next to him. “I’m glad you came out tonight. I hope you're at least having some fun.”
“Oh yeah, tons.”
She laughs again. “I know not to expect you to be the life of the party, but you can let loose a little. You’ve been so gloomy since…” She trails off, but Isaac knows where the sentence ends.
Since Fran died.
Larissa toys with the stem of her martini glass. “It’s understandable. I just worry about you. You can’t hole yourself up in that lab all day and night. It’s not healthy.”
“Well, it is my job Larissa.”
“And this is your life, Isaac. She wouldn’t want you to be alone.”
He can’t help but roll his eyes at that. What anyone wanted for him hardly matters anymore. What he already has wasn’t enough. He dropped everything, a burgeoning career in scientific research, an almost completed PhD, to come back here and help take care of Fran when she got sick. It didn't matter. After only a year, she was gone.
And now, six months later, he’s still here. He doesn’t regret it, but that doesn't mean he has any idea of where he wants to go now. So he’s stayed in place.
He has tuned Larissa out for too long, because the conversation has taken a turn without him. She was looking at him with a more mischievous glint in her eye.
“When’s the last time you even went on a date?”
He sighs, not wanting to entertain this line of questioning. “Never.”
“Oh, that’s not true!” She slapped his shoulder lightly. “I distinctly remember you taking out that one girl in college, what was her name?”
“I don’t remember, and anyway, it obviously didn’t work out. It’s fine. I’m committed to monkhood.”
Larissa gave him a withering look, different from her disappointed one. More like, you’ve got to be kidding me.
“I’ve been busy,” he mumbles around another sip of his drink.
“Well you’re not very busy now, are you?” He couldn’t argue that. Actually, he could, but it wouldn’t get him anywhere.
“And who am I supposed to date, Larissa? You’re the only woman I talk to, and while you’re lovely, I just don’t think it will work out between us.”
“Please, we all know you love blondes.” She leans forward, scouring the bar. “What about… her?” She points to a girl perched at the bar.
She has short blonde hair, with little streaks of blue and pink. She was frowning at her phone, a small pout on her face that Isaac would never admit out loud was … cute.
“Why her?” he asks, running his finger through the condensation on the side of his glass.
“She’s very pretty. Plus, I don’t recognize her, and she’s all alone.”
“Are you picking out my next date or my next victim?”
“That all depends on you, darling!” She smiles over at him, then huffs when he doesn’t move.
“Isaac.” Her tone is laced with accusation, and she gives him a harder shove, effectively pushing him out of the other side of the booth. “Try. Please. Maybe you’ll even enjoy yourself for once!”
He gives her one last pleading look, but he knew he had lost this battle. He looks back over at the girl, who has now put her phone down. She seemed content to be alone, he reasoned, but then she moved, slowly crossing her long legs in a way that was completely casual yet somehow completely captivating.
Isaac reached back to the table, finishing off his drink before slamming it back down and making his way toward the bar.
-
Enid grabbed her phone from where she had laid it on the bar as soon as it lit up. Reading the notification, her stomach dropped as she immediately swiped the text away without opening it.
She could just guess at what her ex Bruno would be texting her about. Something to do with her conversation with her mother last weekend.
She knew telling her about the teaching gig was a mistake, because as soon as she told her about Nevermore’s location in Vermont, her mom launched into how close that was to Burlington and do you know who coaches at one of the colleges in Burlington?
She sipped her cosmo, imagining her mom calling Bruno’s, Bruno’s mom calling him, leading to the text sitting there unopened that probably read something like, ‘Hey, my mom said you moved nearby, do you want to get drinks sometime and then quit your job to marry me and have 10 children we raise to all be quarterbacks?’
Or something like that.
She placed the phone back down on the bar, screen down this time. She had only arrived in Jericho a few hours ago, settling into her room at the small inn Nevermore put her up for the night. Her “Campus Living Accommodation” wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow.
It had taken her about 25 minutes of doomscrolling on her phone to become antsy and need to be anywhere but sitting alone in the pastel painted room. Luckily, the bar was only a block away, considering Jericho seemed to mostly consist of that single block. She was surprised to see it so busy on a Thursday night, but maybe it bodes well for her.
Maybe she wouldn't wither away and die of boredom before the end of the school year.
She saw a figure approaching out of the corner of her eye, and held back an exasperated sigh. She did not want to be hit on right now. She steeled herself to kindly tell the guy to back off, aware that she was, after all, a woman alone at a bar in a town she was not familiar with. Probably best not to be too rude about it, but she knew Wednesday would hunt her down if she went missing and didn’t show up for her first day at work tomorrow.
Then she turned and actually saw her admirer. He was a lanky sort of tall, with curly black hair that kept falling into his eyes.
He was also one of the prettiest guys she had seen, ever. Suddenly, she wasn’t in such a rush to tell him to get lost.
She put down her glass, waiting for the inevitable line, “What’s your sign?” or whatever. He didn’t actually look like the type to go for something that cheesy, but looks can be deceiving.
He’s standing slightly behind her now, but they’ve made eye contact and she’s pretty sure she has her friendliest “come hither” look on her face. He just looks at her. He opens his mouth slightly, before closing it again. His brow furrows, and for a split second Enid thinks she has misread this interaction completely.
He looks back at the table he came from, which is crowded with a group of people all laughing and chatting. No one seems to be watching him, but maybe he’s come to talk to her for a friend or something?
His eyes slid back to her, and she knows from the slight, shy upturn on the corner of his mouth that no, he’s absolutely here for her. There’s another false start, so maybe he just doesn’t know it yet.
“Soooo, what are you drinking?” Enid asks finally, receiving a grimace in response. Jeez. It wasn’t like she was the one who saddled up to the bar next to him.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling. Then, he looks back at her, his eyes so intense that it felt like ice down her spine.
He cocks his head to the side, which was a surprisingly boyish move for someone who seems so… cold. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” He reaches a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.
Enid sipped the last of her cosmo, leaving him stranded in his question for a moment. “It seemed like you were struggling a bit with it.” He didn’t respond, and the look on his face gave the feeling of such genuine anguish at how this interaction had gone that Enid actually felt a little sorry for him.
“Here.” She put her now empty glass down, pushing it away. “We can try it again!”
“What?” he answers, disbelief obvious in his voice, but Enid is already committed. She shakes out her hair, rearranging herself on the bar stool and dramatically leaning over the bar, placing her chin on her hand delicately. The perfect picture of a girl wanting to be approached.
She heard him huff out a breath, but she wasn’t watching him now, and the silence stretches for so long she wonders if she scared him off.
Then, she felt the heat of another body slide in next to hers. He was so tall, but he had leaned into her space, making it feel as if they were the only two in the room.
“So… what are you drinking?” he said it wryly. Enid turned back towards him, smirking.
“Much better.” She allows her eyes to roam, taking him in. He’s wearing a white button down underneath a navy blue sweater, despite the late August heat. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. “I’ll take another cosmo.”
He smiles back at her, lifting a hand to grab the bartender’s attention. “I’m Isaac.”
“Enid.”
-
They were both perched on bar stools now, facing each other. Her leg was slotted in between his, knee pressed up against him. Another drink had loosened Isaac up, but it was becoming harder to keep his eyes on hers and not her bare upper thigh as her skirt shifted higher. Harder not to let his fingers graze the newly exposed skin.
God, maybe he really was drunk.
He lost count of how much he had actually drunk at this point. He knew the number couldn’t be that high, but considering he usually didn’t drink at all, they might have gone to his head a bit fast. The girl, Enid, was so bright he almost felt like he had to squint while looking at her.
He knew he wasn’t particularly funny, especially to people who didn’t really know him, yet she would laugh so genuinely at some of the quips he made, head thrown back, exposing her long, slender neck to him.
The conversation stays light, glancing from subject to subject without dipping in too deeply. It’s not small talk though, not in the way Isaac usually experiences with the people he works with. Those conversations make him want to hide away in his lab and never see daylight again.
Instead, he can’t help but lean in towards Enid. Talking to her felt like lying out in the sun all day. He almost thinks if he pulled his shirt up, he would see sunburn spreading across his skin.
“I’m a dancer–was a dancer, actually. I got hurt a while back, tore my achilles. So I had to stop.” She looks down at the bright pink drink she’s holding. “25 and my professional dreams have already crashed and burned.”
Isaac takes another sip of his gin and tonic, nodding. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m being melodramatic about it.”
“It’s not melodramatic. It’s hard, feeling like you prepared for something your whole life for it to just… end.”
Enid raises an eyebrow. “You sound like you’re familiar with the feeling yourself.”
Isaac shrugged. “Science has been my whole life. School, studying – I graduated young, then immediately went into college and research.” She was watching him, blue eyes lit with something akin to understanding, maybe.
“I just get it. Dedicating your life to something that feels more important than anything.”
Enid glances down at that, sighing. “That’s the thing, I don’t even know how much of it was actually about me and what I wanted. My mom was like, really intense about it. Full on Dance Mom. She always pushed me, prioritized my dancing over everything else. My injury was hard for her.”
He furrows his brow. “She’s not the one who was hurt.”
“I guess she was, in her own way.”
Isaac scoffs. “That’s not fair to you.”
“It is what it is. I’m trying to start focusing on the positive.” It was a meaningless platitude, but it didn’t feel like it from her. He knew she just wanted to bring this line of questioning to an end, but he also thought she meant it. She seems like a glass half full kind of girl.
Enid is quiet after that. Contemplative. The silence stretches between them, but without the awkward tension from before. It’s comfortable. Isaac feels shockingly settled next to her.
The crowd had thinned out by this point, and the bartender yelled out for last call.
Enid shifts forward, knee sliding along the inside of his thigh in a way that makes his mouth go dry immediately.
“So, I’m only staying about a block away from here, but I don’t know how I feel about walking alone this late. Who knows what kind of people are out there.” Her eyes glance up at his, hooded and full of underlying intentions. “Walk me back?”
She would be staying at the inn, since it was pretty much the only place to stay in Jericho. While he doubts she would actually be in any danger walking right down the street, he could take a hint. At least, he thought it was a hint.
“Of course.” He closed out their tab, leaving some cash on the bar for the bartender while Enid finishes the last of her drink. He pushes off the stool, picking her jacket up off the back and holding it up for her to slip into. She raises an eyebrow at the gesture, but doesn’t move away as his hands rest on her shoulder for a moment longer than necessary.
He glances back to the table where Larissa is still sitting with a couple of stragglers. He knew it was a mistake immediately as she smirks, lifting her martini glass up to him in a cheeky toast. He quickly directs Enid towards the door, fighting the urge to flip Larissa off on the way out.
The night air was cool, hinting at the autumn weather that would be just around the corner.
“So, if you’re not from around here, where are you from?” he asks, keeping his hands in his pockets.
“California. San Francisco, specifically.”
Isaac laughs dryly. “You’re going to be in for a treat then, is this going to be your first northern winter?”
“UGH. Don’t remind me.” She threw her head back, glaring at the sky like it had done her a personal offense. “I’m not ready for snow.”
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”
They arrived at the inn too quickly. He stops, turning to look at her.
“Soooo… thanks for walking me back,” Enid says, rocking back and forth on her feet. Isaac just nods.
“I know it’s a small town, but you know, travelling alone can be a lot.” She was watching him, rambling on. “Look, I doubt the inn has anything good enough for me to offer you a drink in their minifridge, plus it’s probably like a whole insane charge to even look at them, but still. Do you want to maybe come in?” She’s looking up at him expectantly now.
“Oh, uhm. I wouldn’t want to put you out or anything…” If this was the end of the night, which it probably was, it was okay with him. It had to be. He wasn’t cut out for this type of thing. Enid watches him, as if she was hearing the thoughts running through his head at 100 miles a minute.
After a few more moments of silence from him, she stopped chattering and rolled her eyes. Then, she crooks a finger at him, beckoning him to lean in towards her. Cautious, he slouches down so she could whisper in his ear without reaching, “Since you need it spelled out… I’m inviting you inside to fuck me.” She pauses, eyes skating over his face. “I mean, If you want to.”
“I want to.” The words are out of his mouth before reaching anywhere near his brain, which pretty much never happens to him. He thinks about backtracking, that he wouldn’t be so crude to just want to fuck her. But wasn’t he? He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his curls back just for them to fall forward again. He could be that person for one night, couldn’t he?
He felt her hand slip into his, tugging him after her as she walked up to the entrance of the inn.
-
Enid feels like a teenager again, sneaking a boy into her room after her mother went to sleep, as she quietly pulls Isaac through the lobby of the inn and up to the second floor. She was pretty sure it was late enough that the owner was asleep, but she didn’t necessarily feel like risking getting caught bringing in a late-night guest to a room paid for by her future employer. Still, sneaking around adds a sense of allure, making heat pool insistently at the pit of her stomach in anticipation of what they would get up to once she has him alone.
She pulls the old-fashioned brass key out of her clutch, since this place seemed to be firmly against technological advancements such as key cards. The lock lets out a loud clunk as she turns the key, echoing in the empty hallway. She looks back at Isaac with guilty eyes, then quickly tugs him into the room. She shucks her coat off quickly, tossing it haphazardly on the chair in the corner of the room. She moves back into Isaac’s space, running her hands up under his sweater, pulling it off and leaving him in just the button down shirt.
He watches her, eyes dark and demanding. She lets her hand rest at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone. She can feel the quick flutter of his pulse underneath her fingertips.
“I don’t usually do this” Enid mutters against his lips as she leans up to kiss him, hands tangling into his hair. She knew it didn’t matter, but it was true. She had her share of hook ups in college, sure, but she really was more of a relationship girl.
He laughs against her mouth. “I’ve never done this.”
She stops at that, pulling back and raising an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t possibly mean…
He looks at her, realization dawning on his face. He shook his head quickly. “No, I mean I’ve had sex. I just… don’t go out much, and it’s been a long time…”
Enid surges back up to kiss him again, mainly to keep him from spiraling further into the deep end and ruining this for the both of them. Isaac kisses her back with such care, like this kiss really matters, his thumb ghosting along the side of her cheek.
Her hands slide down along his chest to start working at the buttons of his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders when she stopped suddenly. There was a long scar running down the middle of his chest. Isaac cleared his throat, not looking directly at her.
“Surgery. Valve Replacement. It was when I was young,” he says it clinically, like it was something she might reject about him. Instead, she lets her thumb lightly brush against it, tilting her head up at him.
“I have one too. From my injury. In a different spot, of course…” She trails off, but she sees something soften in his eyes again. She leans up, kissing him again while pushing the shirt off completely. His hands go to her waist, sliding underneath her shirt to tug it over her head. He kisses along the side of her throat, and she almost didn’t hear him whisper against her skin.
“Can I see it?”
She pulls back, nodding slightly. She sat down on the bed, reaching down to pull off her sandals. Isaac remains standing in front of her, eyes following her every movement.
She scooted back so that she was laying on the bed, propped up on her elbows.
“It’s right here,” she said, lifting her leg up slightly and tilting it, showing him the incision scar on the back of her leg. It was healed, but not nearly as much as his. He crouches down then, getting on his knees at the edge of the bed to look closer. Enid would be lying if she said that the sight of Isaac on his knees didn’t stir something in her.
The room was quiet, the only sound was Enid's sharp intake of breath when he lightly ran his thumb over the length of the scar. He lingers longer than she had, as if he was memorizing the ridges and lines.
Finally, she huffs out an impatient breath. He looks at her then, smiling slightly. Then, cupping the back of her foot, he brings the side of her ankle to his mouth, not taking his eyes off her as he makes his way slowly, slowly, up her leg to her inner thigh.
He moved up her body, pulling her into a searing kiss as his hand slid up under her skirt, hooking on her underwear and sliding it down. They ended up somewhere off the side of the bed, forgotten as his hand made his way back up, finger running along her slit slowly. She gasps, feeling like she had been wet for hours, imagining exactly how his hands would feel on her. He rubs up and down, tantalizingly slow, as she bites back a desperate sound. He pulls back from kissing her, hovering over her with a hunger in his eyes as he slides two fingers in.
Enid cries out at the sudden intrusion. She felt so open, laying exposed like this. His hand is insistent on her hip, holding her in place while his fingers move slowly inside of her. She tries to lean up, kiss him on his lips or neck or somewhere, but he stays frustratingly out of reach.
“I want to watch you.” Isaac says, voice dropping to a deeper register that makes her feel hot, desperate for more.
The intimacy of it, of him keeping his eyes on her, watching every single expression and movement as his fingers worked inside her was intimate in a way she has never experienced with another partner. It was like he wanted to learn her, figure out the puzzle and understand exactly what makes her tick, what makes her gasp.
He wants to be an expert.
His hand started moving faster then, long fingers curling up and hitting against a spot in her that makes her want to plead for more. His thumb circles her clit, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Soon, she can’t hold back the whimpering sounds coming out of her.
Isaac smiles, the pressure on her clit becoming more insistent. “That’s right, pretty girl. Let me hear you.” The gravel in his voice, the command layered between the sweetness of the words causes the building tension to snap, and suddenly she’s clamping down around him, pushed over the edge while he watches.
He carries her through it, fingers moving in the consistent rhythm he’s set until she’s come down enough that it's finally too much. He pulls them out then, and maybe any other time Enid would be embarrassed by the wet sound of it, of her and what he’s done.
She only feels the weightless aftershocks of her orgasm, her head tilting to the side as she catches her breath. Isaac brings the fingers to his mouth, tasting her slowly. Savouring.
The sight nearly undoes her, heat rushing back to her core. He moves up to kiss her neck, and she leans her head back, baring her throat for him to drag his teeth along. She reaches down, letting out a noise of frustration when she realizes the guy still had his pants on.
That wouldn’t do.
Enid moves quickly, throwing her leg over his hip to flip them over. He makes a soft sound when she settles down on his hips, and she’s suddenly desperate to hear it again and again. She makes quick work of his pants, unbuttoning and tugging them down for him to kick the rest of the way off. She had felt his hard length against her before, but seeing it now straining against his boxers made her mouth go dry.
She shifts back against his hips experimentally, hands braced on his chest as she grinds down on him. His groan comes louder this time, making her smirk. She keeps the movement slow as she reaches behind her back, undoing her bra to toss aside. He tracks every movement, pupils blown out as he takes her in. His hands come up to her breasts at once, thumb running over her nipples in a way that makes her shiver against him.
Her hands grasp his wrists, pinning his arms down along his sides as she leans forward, kissing down his torso to the edge of his boxers. There’s a tension to him now, something about no longer being in control or being the observer clearly new for him.
She wants it to drive him insane. Absolutely, pathetically insane for her.
She squeezes his wrists once before removing her hands, a clear warning to keep them right where she left them. She hears him suck in a breath as she tugs his boxers down, freeing his length. She wraps her hand around him, dropping her head to lightly lick off the beads of precum from the tip. He groans again, and she reaches her other hand out to his left wrist, an insistent reminder as she takes him in her mouth fully.
She moans at the sensation, the feeling of his cock hitting the back of her throat, and she can feel his body tensing. Finally, she removes her hand from his wrist, and instantly his hands are tangled in her hair, grasping at her.
She continues to work him with her mouth, swallowing him over and over as his soft moans become louder, more frequent. He shudders whenever she drags her tongue along the slit and she can feel his thighs trembling. Knowing he’s probably close, she finally pulls back, releasing his cock with a wet ‘pop’ as she surveys her work.
Isaac is hard enough that it looks painful, and the expression on his face doesn’t help. It makes her want to push him more. She brackets his hips with her legs, wrapping her hand around him to line him up with her entrance. He leans up on his elbows then, reaching out to touch her waist.
“Wait, I don’t…” He’s out of breath still, stumbling over his words a little. “I don’t have a condom.”
Right. Neither did she, because there’s no world where she expected that this was the direction in which her Thursday night would go.
“I have an IUD. And I’m clean, I swear, I got tested a little bit ago,” she says, still hovering over him. Normally she would never consider this with someone she just met, but the longer this goes on, the more she feels like she actually might die if he isn’t inside her.
He nods, panting. “Okay, I-I’m good too.” His hand trails down to grasp her thigh, and she takes the chance to finally sink down on him, keening at the feeling of him stretching her open. His hips jerk as he groans, the sudden thrust making Enid briefly black out any thoughts she might have been having.
“Fuck,” Isaac groans out, and Enid thinks distantly about how it’s the first time she heard him curse all night. Enid moves slowly at first, finding a rhythm against his own thrusting hips. He’s gripping her thighs so tightly, she can only imagine there will be an imprint of his fingertips in the morning.
He sits up as she keeps rocking against him, and she slides her hands to the back of his neck, tangling her fingers into the curls to angle his head back, swallowing every gasp and moan that he makes.
Isaac moves his hand to cradle the back of her head, shifting them so she’s laying on her back now, taking care to not slip out of her as he rearranges them. She wraps her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper. Then, there’s a devious thought that wriggles its way in the back of her mind.
She stops his thrusting, looking at him as she pulls one leg up, hooking it over his shoulder. The position stretches her out deliciously, and Isaac smirks as he starts thrusting again, hitting so much deeper now.
She moans, and then feels his breath against her ear. “I almost forgot – a dancer.” His teeth catch on her earlobe, making her shiver as he picks up speed, fucking into her harder and harder.
One of his hands is still cradling the back of her head, and she feels his fingers weave their way into her hair. At the same time, his other hand slides along from where he’s gripping her hip to press roughly into her clit as the one in her hair suddenly tugs. It’s an overload of feeling, and her second orgasm slams into her now, no slow build to warn her to brace for it. At this point, she knows they’re being loud, that there’s just no way that everyone else in this inn can’t hear them fucking.
“God, Enid.” Isaac’s voice is darker, an animal tone taking over, his hips stuttering as he comes inside her. After a few moments, he pulls out, falling to the side to lay next to her.
For a long time, the only sound is their heavy breathing, slowly mellowing out. Enid’s body feels limp, and she can’t imagine ever moving again. Alas, she has learned the hard way that not peeing will lead to way more pain then going immediately to sleep is worth.
Enid pushes herself off the bed then, heading towards the bathroom. She glances at Isaac on the bed. His breath still hasn’t slowed, with his chest moving up and down in a way that was mesmerizing. Enid shakes her head, shutting the door quickly before she actually gets stuck staring.
Once she’s peed and pulls on the standard hotel robe thankfully hanging in the bathroom, she takes a look in the mirror to survey the damage. Her hair’s a mess, and there’s a hickey on the side of her neck that is going to be very annoying to hide tomorrow.
God, tomorrow. Panic runs through her at the thought of the first day of school, which is frustratingly nostalgic to her teen years, but this time is much more serious. She has to be professional.
Professionals don’t roll into new jobs freshly fucked with hickeys on their neck. At least, she didn’t think they did.
She pulls her hairbrush through her hair quickly, trying to regulate her breathing. It’s fine. She’ll just let him know that he can’t stay the night. He probably wouldn’t even want to, right?
Finally, she braces herself and opens the door. Light from the bathroom floods the otherwise dark room. Isaac is no longer on the bed. Instead, he’s managed to get himself fully dressed and returned to normal, mostly. He’s leaning down in front of the small mirror near the door, trying to push his curls back out of the way.
Well, Enid thought, he apparently didn’t even consider staying. Which is fine.
“So…” Enid starts, leaning against the doorframe. He startles slightly, though there’s no way he didn’t hear the door open. “I had a nice night.”
He shoved his hand into his pockets, looking over at her finally.
“Me too.” There was yet another unbearable silence.
“I should get going,” he says, voice light. Enid stood up straight then, nodding.
“Sure, yeah, I have a really early day tomorrow, so.” She moves toward him as he walks toward the door, opening it to the empty hallway. At least there wasn’t anyone trying to bang the door down, complaining about the racket they had made.
He stops outside the door, turning to face her in the doorframe. He opens his mouth slightly, like he might say something, anything, to make this less excruciatingly awkward. She watches as his lips close again.
Then, he leans in slightly, and kisses her lightly on the cheek. It was so tender, unexpected, and he was gone before she could even think of a way to respond.