Midnight Muse

Heat floods his eyes and my core goes molten as his hot gaze traces me up and down, drinking me in. I shift in my spot, trying to dispel the need to clench my thighs together as my girlhood whines at me to say hello.

I clear my throat at the tightness lingering there.

Knox blinks once, twice, and his eyes meet mine again.

“You look…” He trails off as if he’s at a loss for words. His eyes dip down again and my grip around the strap of my purse tightens so that I don’t reach out and tug him to me by the collar of his shirt. “Beautiful,” he finishes, and the word settles in my chest like a brick, my cheeks going red.

“Thank you, Knox,” I respond softly. I don’t invite him in because I’m still too stunned to say anything else. “You look very handsome.”

He nods, offering me a soft smile that makes my knees wobble. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” I answer, stepping out into the hall.

I lock my door and follow him to the elevator. The muscles of his shoulders strain against the fabric of his shirt and I wonder if that’s why he hadn’t fastened any of the top buttons, because they’d surely burst if he had. He pushes the button to go down, the elevator finally back to its normal—and scary—working conditions. I let my gaze travel lower while he’s distracted, into betrayal territory, and bite my painted lip at the sight of his taut waist and tight ass.

Good enough to eat, indeed.

“Are we taking your bike?” I ask when we reach the lobby. My dress is snug around my ankles, so I’m careful with my steps, but trying to maneuver my way onto his motorcycle is going to be a problem. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get on it in this.”

“We’re taking Slate’s car,” he tells me, pulling the keys from his pocket and twirling them around one long finger. There are a few keys attached to the ring, along with a fluorescent keychain with the words ‘getaway car’ scrawled in white ink. “I hope that’s all right.”

“More than,” I exhale thankfully, taking the hand that Knox offers to help me into the car.

He directs me to mind the rust and the hole in the floorboards where I’m pretty sure I can see the road. He makes sure I’m all the way in and that my limbs aren’t going to get hit by the door when he closes it. He seems so unlike the Knox that I know that I almost ask if the real him has been abducted.

Knox slides into the driver’s seat, tucking the key into the ignition. The vehicle starts with a rough cough and Knox waits until it settles before pulling out into the street.

The ride is bumpier than I remember it being the first time I was in this car, but I’m pretty sure I’m being hyperaware of everything happening right now because I’m so nervous.

“Is Slate staying home tonight?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Knox shrugs. He’s tapping his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel and I can’t help but stare, noticing each groove and scar of his marred skin. The beauty of something so hurtful. I don’t know what caused the scarring, but for it to not stop him from creating his art and following his passion, I’m in awe.

“He lets me use his car sometimes, if I let him use my bike.”

I raise a brow in shock. “You really trust him on that thing?”

Knox huffs a laugh and my heart stutters. When he glances over at me, it completely stills at the gleam of amusement in those beautiful green eyes. “I trust Slate with my life.”

The rest of the short ride is silent except for the sounds of the hardly running Bronco and the tires against the road seeping in through the hole in the floorboards between my feet. If Knox doesn’t speak because he’s nervous, I don’t know. I don’t know him well enough to know his tells, but he’s still tapping along the steering wheel. Otherwise, he seems as cool as a cucumber.

I, on the other hand, am stewing in my own unease. I feel jittery, on edge the closer we get to the building Knox’s exhibition is being held in. It’s not far from our apartments, but with each rotation of the tires, I’m becoming just as high strung as Knox.

I shouldn’t be reading into this the way I am. Joining Knox tonight isn’t anything more than someone not wanting to be alone. I know that he doesn’t care much for my opinion, he’s made that more than clear, but with the attention on him all night tonight, there’s bound to be a little on me, as well.

On the other hand, this feels like more than just an event he needs someone to attend with. The mere twitching of his fingers gives away how important this is to him. I can’t help but to wonder again why he hasn’t invited his roommates, if he trusts them with his life.

Knox rolls the car to a stop between a packed, well-known restaurant and a jewelry shop. Flanked by each store is an elegant, sleek looking gallery. The outside is covered in black marble and the lighting looks expensive and bright. The sign above the door reads the name of the gallery in large black letters.

OPULENT.

The font matches the name.

There are black curtains pulled down across the large windows beside the door. They must be opening them later in the night or even later in the week when the exhibition is open to the public.

I turn to look at Knox who is staring out the windshield, hands twisted tightly together in his lap.

With a sudden burst of confidence, I gently place a hand on his shoulder. Knox flinches and I rip my hand away, mortified. He looks over at me, eyes wide, and for the first time since I’ve met Knox, he looks nervous as fuck.