slide away {lorenzo berkshire}

76. the bolter

TW - smut and also probably the most heartbreaking thing I have written (so far)

"And this urge to run away from what I love is a sort of sadism I no longer pretend to understand"
- Martha Gellhorn

~~~~~~~

Cassie Avery

The fire had burned low by the time Lorenzo came back.

Of course it had - because apparently, I'd decided to spend my evening doing the world's most pathetic thing: waiting.

My book sat open on my lap, but I hadn't read a single word. I'd been staring at the same paragraph so long the ink was starting to blur. My mind was elsewhere - upstairs, behind a closed door where Lorenzo had been far too long.

Every creak from the stairwell had me glancing up like an idiot, every sound in the room had my heart giving that stupid, involuntary jump. I told myself it wasn't worry, just impatience. But deep down, I knew it wasn't that. Because, no, I didn't care about Mattheo. Not even a little. But Lorenzo did. And I had a horrible feeling that I'd managed to fuck that relationship up too, like I fuck up everything else that starts to matter.

I was halfway through tracing a circle in the margin of my book when I heard his footsteps.

He didn't say anything at first - just walked straight over to me, with that lazy, dangerous sort of confidence that made everyone else fade into background noise.

"Finished torturing yourself?". Lorenzo's voice was low, teasing, with that soft edge he tried to hide when he thought no one was paying attention.

I tilted my head back to look at him, pretending not to care that my chest had already gone tight. "You've been gone ages," I said, aiming for casual but failing spectacularly. "Did you get lost?".

He let out a low chuckle, the kind that rumbled through his chest. "Something like that."

The firelight flickered across his face as he came closer, catching on the curve of his grin. I could feel the warmth of him even before he reached me, and it made my skin buzz like I'd stepped too close to the flame.

Theo mumbled something from the couch that sounded like "get a room," and Lorenzo's grin turned wolfish. Of course it did. Because, in his words, embarrassment looked great on me.

He didn't look away - just kept that steady, unhurried gaze on me like he could strip me bare with it. My chest went tighter. My heartbeat had officially forgotten how to behave.

Then he reached down, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, fingers dragging against my skin just long enough to make me forget how breathing worked. "Come on," he murmured, his voice low enough that I almost thought I imagined it. "You're going to fall asleep in that chair."

I arched a brow, masking the way my pulse jumped. "Worried about me now?".

He smiled - small, almost secret. "Always."

It was stupid how easily one word could knock the air out of me.

He straightened, offering me his hand, and I took it before I could think better of it. His palm was warm, fingers firm as they wrapped around mine - grounding, steady, completely unfair. When he guided me to my feet, his hand slipped from mine to my back. The touch was light, but it felt like a brand, like he'd decided the air between us wasn't quite close enough.

The others barely looked up. They were all too used to this dance we did now - the too-close, not-quite-anything of it all. Just me and Lorenzo doing whatever weird, combustible thing it was we did.