Found in the Cold Ch. 05

Disclaimer:

All characters depicted in this story are over the age of eighteen. This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only and contains consensual adult content. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Chapter Five

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Part One

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We'd barely dropped off our things at the hotel before we were getting ready again. The room had become a mess of shopping bags, tissue paper, soft thuds of new shoes on the carpet, and a trail of other things we'd picked up. Somewhere between her clothes falling off and me trying hard not to stare, we found a rhythm.

To be fair, except for her nudity--which I was sure was intentional to mess with me--we'd been in this situation plenty of times before. Only then, it had been her, me, and Jesse getting ready for a school function where they'd be drooled over and I'd be ignored.

I hung up our clothes as Katie showered and then headed in when she called out she was finished. Thankfully, she was wrapped in a towel as she stood in front of the mirror, barefoot, brushing her damp hair with a new brush as she ran the complimentary hair dryer. Even covered, I still couldn't help but stare and dream.

She caught me and grinned.

I cleared my throat and asked, "Did you use all the hot water?" I asked as I stripped.

She smirked at me in the mirror glancing down at my half erect penis. "I figured you didn't need it since you'd be using all the cold to calm down."

I let a playful growl rumble through my chest, and she giggled.

"Hey, I'm more than happy to take care of you right here, right now, but someone doesn't want to miss the party."

"I can be quick... real quick."

"Oh, I know," she teased. I closed the curtain, and she laughed. "And your speed isn't the issue, it's the aftermath. I'm not walking around all night, 'leaking'. It's not classy."

"That's gross."

"It's your cum."

"It's still gross. I had to pry myself apart this morning."

I jumped when the curtain was ripped open.

"Really? You're going to complain about being sticky? After the way you filled me up last night, you could've stuck me to the wall."

"Okay, but you're used to that."

She allowed me to shut the curtain as she said, "Oh no, Alley-Cat, you're the only one who's ever had the pleasure of that particular experience. Everyone else had to wrap it up."

I looked out. "Why me?"

"What?" she asked with a smirk and pretended she couldn't hear me. "Sorry, the shower is too loud and I've got to get ready."

I laughed and went back to my rapidly cooling shower.

She was slipping into her dress when I came out. I stopped short, caught by the sight of her half-turned toward the mirror.

"Stop staring and zip me up."

I got near and pulled the zipper slowly. The fabric clung to her hips, black and sleek, elegant in a way that made my heart hurt. The clasp behind her neck held my attention for far longer than it should have, but I was enjoying letting my fingers linger on her skin.

She exhaled softly--almost inaudibly--as she leaned back against me.

"Alex, if you don't stop, we won't be leaving and I look too damn good to let you mess it up," she said with a small smile.

I pulled her tight, wrapping my arms around her waist and kissing her neck. Her hands came up, finding my head as she moaned. Then she turned toward, fully ready to give in to my needs, but I pulled away, leaving her red-faced and breathless.

"Wait... what's happening?"

"I'm getting ready?"

"No, you were starting something, now get back over here and finish what you started."

"Sorry--can't hear you, I'm getting ready."

She grabbed her new makeup bag and swatted me with it as she passed by. "Payback's a bitch, Alley-Cat, and I won't be gentle."

I chuckled as we finished getting dressed in companionable silence. We talked, but it was mostly a little teasing. Although she shut it all down when she helped fix my tie.

Her warm body stood close enough for me to catch the perfume she'd dabbed on--something soft and clean--over my knock-off Drekker Noire. She smiled absently as she tugged it into place, then smoothed my lapels with a soft, affectionate pat.

"I never thought in a million years I'd be nervous about going out with you."

"Thanks?"

She giggled softly as her arms slipped around my neck. "Not like that... well, maybe like that, but still... you've grown into a hell of a man, Alley... I mean, Alex. The kind of man a woman would be proud to call hers."

Before I could respond, she kissed me--soft, quick--then took my hand and led me to the door.

She was my dream, standing there patiently as I helped her into her coat, then waiting while I put on my own so I could open the door for her. She did the same at the elevator. Didn't touch anything, just waited for me.

I felt like the king of the world when she slid into the taxi and smiled up at me. And then again, when she sat tight against me, her hand wrapped around mine in her lap like I might disappear if she let go.

At first, I didn't notice, but as the ride went along, I could feel her trembling.

"Hey," I said gently, glancing down at her. "You alright?"

"Just nervous," she murmured.

"About me?"

She responded in a voice so small I could barely hear her. "No... yes... sort of. It's been a long time since I've been to anything formal."

"It's not formal. Just a holiday party. Happens every year. I've been to eight of them. They're fun, the people are great, the food's amazing--and they have karaoke."

"You sing?" she asked, smiling, but her thumb rubbed slow circles over the back of my hand.

"No," I said with a smirk. "But you do."

She laughed, the sound bright but edged with disbelief. "I am not getting up there and singing."

"It's cool if you don't. Just know it's there if you want to."

She shifted, shoulders tight, her grip on my hand subtly firming.

"Seriously," I said, keeping my voice soft. "I won't make you sing."

She shook her head. "It's not that." Her gaze was distant, angled toward the window. "It's the whole thing. This is important to you, and I don't want to mess anything up... or say the wrong thing."

I blinked, taken aback by the vulnerability in her voice. The way her confidence flickered felt like a crack in the armor she usually wore with such ease.

I shifted toward her and gave her a playful nudge. "Are you telling me the prom queen runner-up is worried about saying the wrong thing? Say it isn't so. Aren't you the same woman who told the entire school that Ms. Martin grabbed your ass during an away team trip?"

She gave a watery laugh, the tension in her shoulders loosening. "That was a no-brainer. I was helping Brittany--Ms. Martin tried to do worse to her."

"See?" I shrugged. "You'll be fine."

She gave me a look. "How do you figure that?"

"Because when it counts, you step up for your friends. This is important to me, and I have complete faith that you won't do anything that'll get me fired."

She gave me a mock glare. "No pressure, right?"

"Oh no," I teased, leaning in slightly. "Huge. Very, very huge pressure." I widened my eyes like a cartoon villain. "If you say one word wrong, I'll lose my entire business."

Her laugh burst out genuinely this time. Then she rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder against mine. "Ass."

"A well-dressed ass though."

We fell into quiet again. She laid her head briefly on my shoulder, her breath warm through the fabric of my coat.

"Thanks," she whispered, so quietly I almost missed it. "I needed that."

"You're welcome," I said, brushing my thumb against her knuckles. I didn't add that I needed it, too.

She was lighter when we stepped into the party. Not unafraid--but steadier.

It was going to be a good night.

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Part Two

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The party was held in a renovated historic building just off the harbor--one of those spaces with tall windows, exposed brick, and soft jazz piped in over hidden speakers. Erin's company always puts on a good event. Polished without being stiff, festive without being tacky. People mingled with wine glasses and shrimp skewers, and I saw more turtlenecks under blazers than I had since the last time I was in San Francisco.

Katie stayed close.

At first, she was shy. Not anxious, just tentative--measured. She let me lead in conversation, stayed half a step behind me, and smiled with that polite, slightly practiced expression people wear when they're out of their element. But as the night went on, something in her began to loosen. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the room full of strangers treating her like she belonged, but little by little, the Katie I remembered started to shine through.

She cracked a joke that made Jonah from Northbridge choke on his cocktail shrimp. She teased Erin lightly about her "CEO-level karaoke courage" and laughed when someone mistook us for a married couple. The more people she spoke to, the more her guard lowered, until her voice found its rhythm again. Until her eyes lit up the way they used to.

But about halfway through the night, something shifted.

She didn't say anything. Nothing obvious happened, not that I could see. But she started holding my hand tighter. Her fingers tangled with mine like she needed the grounding. She stayed closer, almost flush against my side, and when I introduced her to people, her smile was more guarded, her words quieter.

I didn't ask. Not there. But I stayed close and kept my arm around her. When she leaned into me during the speeches, I leaned back. When she laughed too brightly at something that wasn't all that funny, I just smiled and let her have it.

We didn't dance. Katie said her shoes weren't made for it, and I told her I didn't know how, anyway.

But she kissed me when no one was looking, soft and quick, like she needed to remind herself I was real.

And that was enough for me.

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I was smiling when we stepped back into the hotel room--her in front as if we were a normal couple returning home from a good night out. Normally, those parties drained me. But with her--I felt energized.

I still couldn't wait to get to bed, but for an entirely different reason than the year before.

"You were amazing tonight," I said, and I meant it. She had dazzled them. She was composed, graceful, and quick-witted. I couldn't stop watching her.

I turned to face her, caught up in the warm wash of pride and--God, affection--and I did something I hadn't planned.

I caught her wrist and spun her into me, instinctive, like it had always been meant to happen. She laughed a little in surprise, and I kissed her before I could talk myself out of it.

It was meant to be light, a little celebratory, but she kissed me back hard--hungry and full, like it might be our last. Her fingers curled in my shirt. Her breath hitched against my cheek.

I pulled back, startled by how much I felt and how much she gave.

"You alright?" I asked, the words barely out before I saw the shimmer in her eyes. "Katie?"

She shook her head. "I was recognized tonight."

I blinked. "Someone said something to you?"

"No... not exactly." She stepped out of my arms, crossing to the edge of the bed like it might anchor her. "He kept circling back. Said I looked familiar. I don't think he figured it out."

I exhaled. "Okay. So... nothing to worry about."

She turned sharply to face me. "Nothing to--? Alex, I'm homeless."

The word hit the room like a thrown stone. My stomach tightened.

She started pacing--tight, clipped steps across the plush carpet like she couldn't get warm. Her arms crossed under her chest.

"Two days ago," she said, "I was sleeping on a vent outside in this city. You know why? Because it was warmer there than anywhere else. I shower at the shelter. I beg for day-old bagels when I can't get into a soup kitchen in time. And tonight, I was sipping cocktails with CEOs, like I hadn't just washed my underwear in a hotel sink yesterday."

"Just call down to the laundry service," I said automatically, trying to help. "They'll do it for you."

She stared at me like I'd just missed the point by a mile--and I had.

"You don't get it. I don't belong in that world. I don't belong in this room."

I wanted to reach for her. I didn't.

Instead, I said the only thing I knew. "Things change."

"No, they don't." Her voice cracked--barely audible, like the sound of glass flexing under pressure. She spun and met my eyes. "This isn't my life, Alex."

I gestured toward the room. "It is now."

"Because you let me stay?"

"No. Because I want you to."

She didn't move. She didn't blink.

"I don't need you to save me."

"That's not what I'm trying to do."

Her gaze narrowed. "Then what are you doing?"

"I'm not trying to fix you," I said, voice softer now. "You're perfect."

Her breath caught--then her whole face shifted.

"Dammit, Alex," she snapped, voice rising, "I'm not who I was in high school. I'm a woman who sleeps on grates, who lies to security guards, and smiles through hunger like it's a game. This is who I really am now."

She crossed to the dresser, grabbed her bag, and paused with her fingers on the strap.

"You can't be with someone like that."

"Katie--please--"

She moved toward the door.

"This is who I am. And you can't just love the parts you remember."

She pulled it open.

"But I love you," I said softly.

She froze, her back still to me.

Then she turned, eyes shining with tears. "You don't love me, Alex. You don't know me anymore."

"Don't say that," I said, crossing to her. My voice was firmer now, steadier than I felt. I reached for her hand. "I do know you."

I looked at her, really looked at her.

"Katie McAlister," I said again, "I love you."

She blinked, lips trembling. And then she leaned in and kissed me--soft, slow, almost reverent.

When she pulled back, her words shattered something inside me.

"You love fucking me, Alex. It's not the same."

And then she was gone.

I stood there, silent. Useless. The slam of the door echoed louder than it should have. Too final.

By the time my body remembered how to move, the elevator had already swallowed her whole. By the time I reached the lobby, she was gone.

What the fuck just happened?

It was the only thing looping through my head as I stood there, staring at the empty doors, letting my world quietly fall apart.