The Feature

VIII

It had been raining for three days straight, and though you'd never minded the wet, gloomy weather before, there was something about this particular storm that felt almost personal; as if the universe could feel your discontent and was sulking in solidarity with you.

It started almost immediately after you left Ben's house that night; fine beads of rain beginning to pepper the windshield as you sat behind the wheel of your car in silence - chagrin, frustrated - your papers and notes tossed carelessly on the backseat, as if the victory of a successful interview meant nothing when compared to what came after.

You were sat on the edge of the island, breathless and bewildered as you watched him take a step back, offering out his hand to help you down. You took it, sliding down onto your feet and quickly straightening out your skirt which had ridden up in the fervour.

"I apologise..." you said awkwardly as you ran your thumb along your bottom lip, still tingling from the pressure of his kiss.

He shook his head with a reassuring smile. "No need to apologise," he said, leading you out of the kitchen and back towards the study. "It's my fault really, I should've known better than to do that in the first place."

"Should've known better?" you asked as you followed behind.

"Well yeah." He pushed the door open and stepped aside for you to walk into the room. "This is technically work, for both of us. And after everything that's happened, you'd think I'd have learned by now that you're..."

You turned to him.

"Dangerous," he finished with a breathy laugh.

Your brows began to furrow over narrowed eyes, and in that moment it was as if he realised the implication of his words, how they sat much heavier in the air than they had on the back of his tongue.

"You think I'm... dangerous," you said.

He sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I-"

"What?" you interrupted. "You don't think I can be trusted, is that it?"

"No-"

"Y-you think I'd... I'd write some sort of kiss and tell?"

"No-"

"That I'd fuck you and then use it to blackmail you or something?"

"No, look, I didn't mean-"

"How else could you have meant it?" you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder.

"What are you doing? Do we not still have interview questions to get through?"

"No I think I have enough material to work with, thank you."

You scooped up your notes and papers, holding them messily in your arms as you elbowed past him into the hall.

"Wait, Quinn," he called out from behind you.

"What?" You spun around, waiting for him to apologise, to explain himself.

"You forgot your phone."

You pursed your lips, marching up to him and clumsily taking it out of his hand, trying desperately to keep your notes from falling out of your arms. He remained quiet, watching as you gave him a stern nod and pivoted on your heels towards the front door, fumbling to open it with your elbow, your irritation growing more palpable with every second you remained inside his house.