ships passing in the night

Chapter 2: A Flight of Fancy

"Sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love."

– Gabriel García Márquez

//

I must be out of my mind. Jinny fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. Her feet felt cold and clammy against the interior leather of her heels, her hands clasping and unclasping on her lap. Every few minutes, she would steal a glance to her right–

He was still there, basking in all his chiseled, Greek god glory. As if he could jump out of a moving car. If she didn't know better, she would've thought the Olympians themselves sculpted him from clay. Jinny had met her fair share of handsome, charismatic men, but Kellan just seemed to ooze pheromones from head to toe. He was tall, inexplicably tall – when they left the bar, he towered over her tiny frame, so much so her head couldn't even reach his shoulders. But he emanated this quiet, mellow warmth, as though he was a blanket on a cold winter's night. And his eyes – he had the kindest, softest eyes, ones that could ease a woman into believing simply anything.

Jinny wasn't scared. She hadn't been, of anything, for quite a while. But should I really be going to his place? At her age, all her 'stranger danger' senses seemed to be switched off, though they probably shouldn't. She'd warned herself to have more caution, more restrain, or at least some semblance of sensibility. But there she was, about to saunter carelessly into a man's place, a man who –she glanced at him– she'd know for less than five hours and was probably a good five years older than her.

She had timed her glances pretty carefully, but not this time. The taxi rode over a speed bump, promptly causing them both to jump and him to look at her. This time, those immensely beguiling eyes were gazing right into hers.

"Hey, you alright?" Kellan asked.

Jinny pressed her lips into a smile. "I'm fine," she replied, but knowing her answer was extremely unconvincing, she added, "just a little cold."

Instinctively, he shifted his shoulders, removing his soft wool blazer. "No, no, it's okay," Jinny insisted, waving her arms. "It wasn't code for you to give me your jacket."

She must have seemed comical, because he gave her an amused look. "Are you laying a trap for me?" he chuckled. "Because if I don't give you my jacket right now, I'm going to look like the biggest asshole."

"I'm not, promise."

But he slid it over her shoulders anyway, and Jinny soon realized that it was an excuse for him to also put an arm around her. It affirmed what she knew he was – a pro.

The cab swerved to a halt. Yep, she acknowledged, there's no getting out of this tonight.

//

His eyes followed her silhouette as she crossed the cool marble threshold. Each step was delicate and pensive, yet resolute. She slowly inspected her surroundings, deliberately taking in the earthiness of his apartment, soaking in the silence of the room. Her gaze trailed over his dark grey polyester sofa, to his plywood cabinet, to the few photographs he had framing his various travels, before finally meeting his.

Kellan felt his breath hitch in his throat. It must have been getting late, but there was something strangely hypnotizing about Jinny. She moved with certain familiarity that indicated she had been to a man's place –an unknown man's place– before, but with sufficient self-consciousness to let him know that she did have her reservations. She wasn't a fish out of water, but this wasn't her element. Maybe it was that part of her that drew him to her – the part that seemed neither here nor there.