CROSSING LINES |18+|✓

Chapter IX

•<The Storm>•

Heavy rains and thunderstorms to set
the mood.
You can press play if you wish to.

•<>•

Falling Like the Stars by James Arthur has been playing repeatedly and I must say, it's not helping. I'm so tensed up I can't stop playing thumb war discreetly beneath my tote bag, and after driving for a couple of minutes, we've finally reached our destination....his apartment.

Despite the blurriness on the windshield, I'm still able to see bits of the place. It's illuminated by orange lights that are stuck all over the building.

The yellow lights glowing from lampposts add a touch of brightness to this place, and they circle what looks like a water fountain that's right in the center of the apartment complex.

I then turn my head to the side but the fog and tiny raindrops on the window have blocked me from having a clear view of this place. However, I can tell just from the building complex that this place is luxurious and high-priced.

"We're finally here," he says as he steers the wheel to the right and leads us to an underground parking garage.

After passing through the lobby and taking the elevator, we finally make our way to an empty hallway that is monochrome and has huge wooden doors with big plant pots on the side.

He takes his keys out and just as he's about to open the door, he turns his head to me.

"Don't ever tell anyone where I live." He asserts confidently, his voice striking a balance between steadiness and authority, "Do I make myself clear?" He adds and I nod instantly.

When he opens the door, my eyes fall on the beautiful view of what's in front of me. His apartment looks so extravagant and lovely. I wouldn't say it's damnably huge but it's quite spacious. It's a combination of marble and wood, so ravishing words can't describe. It's beautiful, so luxurious and cozy for a man who lives alone I assume.

As I walk in, I instinctively move to the side, silently observing him as he casually places his car and apartment keys into the small, woven round basket atop the table.

My gaze roams the room, and I'm continuously captivated by the sheer elegance and charm of his place. The pristine white walls amplify the radiance within the apartment, bathed in a warm blend of yellow and orange light filtering in from outside.

"Come," his voice causes me to whip my head to him, "You'll need to change into dry clothes before you catch a cold." He says as he leads me up the stairs, and I trail behind while silently drinking in the view I can't seem to tear my eyes away from.

When we get to an empty bedroom, he walks to the closet to look for something.

He then pulls out two robes and hands them to me. "I keep some of my clothes in here." He utters while passing the garments to me, "You can take a hot shower and change into this while you wait for your clothes to dry."

Upon taking them from his grasp, I remain silent and offer a confirming nod. I wouldn't say the effect he has on me has dissipated because my heart is still racing at our proximity, and I can barely formulate a word. The only difference about today is that I'm not as a big bowl of a mess as I usually am whenever I'm around him for some reason I don't quite know.

"Let me know when you're done changing so I can come and get the clothes and put them in the dryer." He says with his hand resting on his waist.

Gosh, I can't get enough of that British accent.