The runway heart

David- Unraveling

The balcony wasn’t grand, but it possessed a narrow, quiet charm. In the far corner, a small seating arrangement was framed by cascading money plants that glowed softly against potted roses, their ceramic bases wrapped in rustic jute baskets. Beneath our feet, the dark tiles were glided by a seamless blanket of moonlight, reflecting the shimmering, silver expanse of the apartment pool down below.

And right there, seated in front of me, was Nyla.

Her slender fingers rested lightly over the rim of her glass. Even in the dim light, she felt like a force. From the brief moments I had observed her, it was obvious she was the type to take care of everyone else, completely forgetting about herself. This was only the second time I was meeting her, yet I felt an uncanny ability to see right through her defenses.

A heavy, profound quiet settled between us. I didn't initiate a conversation immediately, sensing she needed a few moments to untangle herself from her own thoughts. I wished, desperately, that I could read her. Usually, deciphering people was second nature to me. But not Nyla.

When the spell holding me captive finally cracked, air flooded my lungs again. Yet, the only words my usually eloquent mind could muster were painfully ordinary.

"Hey. How are you doing?"

The moment the question left my lips, I cursed myself silently. I had been around plenty of women in my life. I always knew exactly what to say, how to perfectly time a word to charm or disarm. But not with her. I had never felt a string pull this violently toward someone. She was young, far out of my usual circle, and completely not my type.

She looked at me, her posture visibly tense, before she murmured, "I'm doing fine." She relaxed for a fraction of a second, only to stiffen up again under the weight of my gaze.

Before long, both of our glasses were empty. Nyla quietly grabbed my glass and slipped back inside. When she returned barely a minute later, I couldn't help the amused twitch of my lips. She hadn't just brought refilled glasses; she had a whole bottle securely tucked under her arm. It was a fiercely endearing sight. It was obvious she didn't want to risk going back inside the crowded room. She wanted to stay out here. Near me.

She set the drinks down and immediately made a move to retreat back toward the glass doors, perhaps intending to grab something else. But a sudden, fierce reluctance flared within me. I didn’t want her to leave. In another completely involuntary movement, my hand shot out, my fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist.

"Stay," I murmured.

A deep crimson bloomed across her cheeks, but she didn’t shrink away. Instead, she lifted her chin, pinning me with a remarkably dignified glare. "It’s not a particularly good habit to grab the wrist of someone you barely know."

I let out a low laugh, keeping my tone deliberately neutral despite the sudden racing of my pulse. "I'm fairly certain we know each other much more than we think. I was merely trying to keep you from running away. I am entirely capable of getting you a drink, Nyla—or anything else you might want. You don't have to carry the weight of everything by yourself."

She held my glare, a sudden spark in her eyes. "I know you can. But maybe I enjoy doing it for you."

My mind began to ramble, the alarms in my head blaring. I shouldn't engage with her any more than necessary. It was inappropriate. She was much younger than my thirty-six years. I also carried the unsettling, dangerous certainty that if I allowed myself to get any closer to her, I would never be able to let her go.

Yet, instead of retreating as my good sense demanded, I closed the distance between us. I reached out, my fingers skimming the surface of the glass she held, deliberately taking it from her hands. God. I just wanted an excuse to cross the boundary between us, feeling the lingering warmth of her fingers where they had just rested on the crystal.

Nyla eased back into her seat, though her eyes remained sharply alert as they tracked my movements. "No offense, David, but your glass is right there. You didn't need to take mine."

My pulse spiked, but I offered a teasing, easy grin. "No, you're mistaken. This is definitely my glass. I simply don't want anyone spiking my drink."

A slow smirk played on her lips, her cheeks dimpling beautifully. She seemed to take immense delight in the sudden shift, leaning into the banter. "Do you really think I would do something like that just to take advantage of you?"

My head snapped back slightly. I knew she wouldn't. The truth was far simpler: I just wanted an excuse to be near her.

She stood up from her chair, making a move to step past me.

"Wait," I said, the word slipping out before I could stop it. Once again, acting entirely without thinking, I reached out and caught her arm.

We froze in unison.

The balcony fell away as our eyes locked onto the exact point where my hand encircled her soft skin. The rapid, delicate flutter of her pulse beneath my fingertips perfectly mirrored the sudden, erratic escalation of my own heartbeat.

A heavy, suffocating tension laced the silence around us. Time slowed down. I was a man of logic, someone who didn't believe in anything that defied the laws of physics, but I could have sworn the universe physically altered in that moment. Each second stretched into an eternity.

Nyla visibly mellowed, her breath escaping in a soft, trembling sigh through parted lips. The electric tingling between us intensified until it was almost unbearable. Realizing what I was doing, I dropped my hand as abruptly as I had grasped her.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice stiff, trying my absolute best to ignore the turbulent chaos in my chest.

"It's fine," Nyla replied softly. She picked up her glass, her expression suddenly distant and distracted.

Before the moment could stretch, the balcony doors slid open. Shane and Mahi stepped out abruptly. Shane’s eyes narrowed immediately, his heavy gaze darting suspiciously between Nyla and me.

Shane muttered a dry comment, causing Mahi to burst into a high-pitched, grating giggle. The sound was so intensely irritating it cut right through the lingering magic of the night.

Without a single word, Nyla turned and walked away, vanishing into the apartment.

A few minutes later, I went inside to look for her, only to discover something that left a cold knot in my stomach. She had completely left the apartment. Her own apartment.

I stood by the door, trying to piece together how my evening had gone so entirely off the rails. It was already one o'clock in the morning. Where could she have possibly gone at this hour? I was fiercely, terribly worried about her—even though I knew, deep down, I had absolutely no right to be.