Desolation // l.p.

Chapter XXXVIII

I step onto the elevator in Liam's building, bouncing slightly on my feet. The quick walk to his apartment was filled with doubt and hope. Doubt is that small part of me saying that seeing him tonight is a bad decision considering all of my previous interactions with him. Very few of them have ended well and with me not hating him at the end. But the hope, the hope is that this will go well and that he and I can have a friendship or relationship of some sort.

The doors slide open and I step out. I can hear the faint playing of music, some old rock song is what it sounds like. I decide to follow the noise, hoping Liam is with it.

I walk through the dining room, the table is set for two. The lights are off and candles litter the center of it, all of them lit. An ice bucket with a bottle of what looks like champagne sits in it and two flutes sit at each place setting. The two seats are across from each other.

"Dammit!" I hear a shout as the sound of metal hitting tile comes from the kitchen. A spatula it sounds like, hit the floor. I smile at the thought of Mr. Payne being clumsy. I continue my walk to the kitchen and peek around the corner. Liam is standing over the stove where multiple pans are cooking. He lifts the lid up on a steaming kettle and the puff of smoke goes up towards his face, his hand cuts through it trying to clear it from his vision.

"Hey." I squeak but over the music and the sound of something frying in a pan I don't think he possibly could have heard me. "Liam?" I say a bit louder and he turns, a smile breaks through his usual scowl when he sees me. A grey v-neck tee and jeans cover him and it's always weird for me to see him out of a business suit. Well, not weird but definitely rare. He actually looks really good in casual attire and I wish I could see more of him in it.

"You look beautiful. I remember that dress." He comments as he turns back to continue cooking our dinner. I look down, thinking about my first day at Payne Industries. It seems like it was so long ago, but really it's been just barely over three months. A lot has happened in three months. Too much.

"I can't believe you actually remember that." I blush. I can't decipher if he is talking about that day at work when I tried to quit, or that night when he picked me up drunk on the side of the street.

"Me neither, but it seems with you I remember everything." He admits and I gulp. I can't wrap my head around the thought of him thinking about me, wanting me... It seems impossible for someone like him to be smitten with me. In all honesty, my situation with him reminds me of Pride & Prejudice. One of my favorite quotes from that book being "Elizabeth hardly knew how to suppose she could be an object of admiration to so great a man," is more comparable to my life then I would ever wish it to be. Comparing Liam to Mr. Darcy wouldn't be entirely like seeing two different people, many things about them are the same but the idea sits on the edge of my mind, waiting to get dropped the second he proves to be otherwise. I don't want to hold false hope in believing I could have a happy ending with him, it would be too great a loss for me to move on from without becoming even more emotionally unstable than I already feel.

"Right." I nod and walk backwards towards the lounge area. I figure I can leave him to cook and I myself can go explore. I walk past the sofa and the chairs to the furthest wall that has a view of the city. The sun sets in the west assuring that every sunset here in Seattle will be beautiful. I admire it as lights begin to flicker on in buildings and people walk under the street lamps on the sidewalk. Everyone is always doing something, maybe that is why it feels like time is flying by. Because no one takes the time to stop and appreciate how slow time can move.

I let a sigh escape my lips as I turn and sit down on the leather sofa, crossing my legs. The material scrunches under me as I shift, unseemingly able to get comfortable. I give an irritated eye roll, acknowledging the fact that I've always hated the feeing and sound of leather furniture. I glance at my unpainted nails, they are uneven and ragged from the nervous biting that I started doing again and I feel the nostalgia from when they were always clean shaven. I used to take such good care of my nails, and they would always be painted. Now, my job and all of the other newfound stress in my life have distracted me from it and they look like absolute shit.