Falling Without Caution

Chapter 5 - Elise

Our embrace lasted for quite a while, but, when Liam pulled away, the sudden lack of warmth felt immediate, as if the sun had been shining... only for it to begin pouring. He smiled at me, the fury in his gaze dialed down to a look of worry. Of care. And when he leaned in to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, the touch felt intimate, almost too intimate.

We both blushed and turned away before we could stumble into dangerous territory, and I scurried to my feet, stammering out words that vaguely resembled 'I've gotta go'. Liam nodded in agreement, returning my earbud and even picking up my book from the ground. Liam Winters, a gentleman. Huh. Who knew?

I think I can pinpoint that as the moment we fell into a comfortable rhythm. Liam picks me up from home, we walk to set together, exchange a joke or two, and then walk home. We're becoming less and less like enemies... and dare I say more like friends?

We rearranged our schedules so we could edit scenes we had together, covered double the amount of film we normally would, and wooed even the director into silence.

After such a long week, it's finally Friday night, and I'm at home, minding my own business, when a familiar knock on the door frame springs me to my feet. There are very few people I would leave my room for, but that knock belongs to only one person. Liam. Normally I'd ignore him, tell him to get lost, and continue chilling, but there's a sort of urgency in the rhythmic drumming of his fists against the door that wills me to hurry.

"What do you want?" I ask him, throwing the door open.

He shows me those bright, white teeth of his, and I raise an eyebrow at the mischievous look on his face.

"Well, aren't you glad to see me," he drawls, his smile swerving closer to that signature smirk I'm so used to.

"I repeat, what do you want?"

"Ask me nicely," he taunts, flashing those dark eyes at me from under thick lashes. Seriously, how come guys get such nice eyelashes? I would kill to have mine half as long.

"Oh, sweet Liam, do pretty please tell me what it is you desire?" I deadpan, my voice dripping with sarcasm so thick I can almost touch it.

"Well, since you asked so nicely-"

I pinch his arm and he narrows his eyes at me.

"Ouch! As I was trying to tell you, I'm here to take you for ice cream, like I promised."

Oops.

Oh well, he deserved it.

I grab my bag, shoving a pair of keys and my phone in, before throwing it over my shoulder lazily as I push the door open farther and scramble outside.

"Man, Liam, you had to choose eight p.m?" I mumble when another gust of chilly night air sends a shiver through my petite frame. He chuckles, sliding his phone into his pocket and simultaneously pulling his hoodie off over his head. Thank god he's wearing a shirt underneath, because I may have called him many profane things, but ugly was never one of them.

"Here," he offers, wincing a little at the cold, "You're correct, I probably should've chosen a warmer day. You're still up for ice cream though, right? I'll give you my sweatshirt to make up for it?"

"I never reject ice cream, and for your information, it's a hoodie," I correct him, setting my bag down and pulling the soft cloth of the hoodie on, "Sweatshirts have zippers. And normally I would decline, but the chilliness has won over my ego. It's a once in a lifetime occasion, be excited."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm still gonna call it a sweatshirt," he shrugs, biting his lip to hold back laughter when he sees just how oversized it is on me. "A sweatshirt that is a couple sizes too big."