The Silence | ✔️

9. H

"Well," Aiden leaned back in his seat and nodded as he glanced down at his plate. "That was good. Really good. You can cook, like so damn well."

The lighting was ambient in Aiden's kitchen. The lights were dimmed. I wasn't sure when that happened but it was aesthetic. We sat at the kitchen island with a glass of red each, side by side on a barstool and I sipped on the Château Margaux with a small smile. His compliment warmed me all over. I was on to a second glass of wine and I wasn't sure if that was the reason for all of the giggling and extra flush in my cheeks.

"Maybe you should work for me," Aiden turned his palms up in question. "Be my personal chef. I'll invest in an actual dining table so that I can host dinner parties."

"You have the room for it," I nodded at the vacant floor space beside the wall to wall windows. He laughed, peering over his shoulder.

"Mmm but that's where I dance."

"You dance?"

He recoiled and gave an enthusiastic nod. The entire situation was causing butterflies to run riot in my stomach. We'd both relaxed so much over the course of the evening. I was sure that the alcohol might have had a part in that. But it didn't matter. I felt so carefree, so light and unburdened. Which was rare. It wasn't often that I had this much fun without that pit of nausea keeping me from becoming one hundred percent at ease.

"Of course I dance," Aiden lifted his glass and threw back the rest of its contents before he set it down and offered me his hand. "Come on."

"Oh no," I shook my head and leaned back on the bar stool. "No no. I do not dance. Unless we count college parties, table top champion four months running — not to brag — but no one had that amount of consecutive wins."

"Well, table top isn't quite what I had in mind," he wrapped his large warm hand around mine and I felt the flutters pick up speed. I almost felt breathless for a moment. As if the simple gesture of his hand around mine was enough to slow down time.

I shook it off and hopped off the stool, feeling the cold of the tiles through my pin striped socks. When we reached the middle of what would be used as a dining area in most cases, he turned around and dropped my hand, holding up an authoritative finger. "Wait here for one moment."

I watched with pinched brows as he walked out of the kitchen, tousling his unkempt almost black head of hair. A few moments later the sound Don't Dream It's Over by Crowded house began floating through from the ceiling speakers. Aiden strolled back in with his hands in his pockets and I felt my breath hitch at how the fabric of his white shirt clung to his chest.

🎶 There's a battle ahead, many battles are lost
But you'll never see the end of the road
While you're traveling with me 🎶

He stopped in front of me and took my hand, his other wrapping around and settling on my lower back. My heart was thumping fast. Faster than any tune that he could have set. We moved with the moderately sped music and I felt a blush as I stared up at his gorgeous face.

"Why this song?"

"I honestly didn't choose it," he chuckled. "I just hit play. But I like this one. It's not too slow. Not too fast."

His lips moved as he mouthed the words. He rested his hand on my waist and pushed me out into a spin before pulling me back into his firm torso.

🎶 Hey now, hey now
Don't dream it's over 🎶

The sensation of being so close to him was overwhelming. I could feel his finger tips gently digging into my back. I could feel his soft breath fanning against my face. My hand rested on his chest, just below his shoulder and the urge to let my hands travel was strong.