"Why, when I see you as you are,
do I know that one glance of yours
has captured me for eternity?" -- Walt Whitman
Ethan briefly averted his gaze from Emily, feigning drunkenness once more as he softened his voice, "Thank you. I was just drinking too fast, but I'm feeling better now. I didn't quite catch it at the bar—could you tell me your name again?"
Emily looked up at Ethan, ready to answer, but she found herself captivated by his eyes. They were stunning—long lashes, dark pupils, and a narrow shape that should have made him seem as distant as a snake. But in his drunken state, his gaze was soft and almost vulnerable, like a big cat caught in the rain. Yet, there was something else there too—a smoldering desire, coupled with a deep loneliness and inner struggle that she couldn't quite place.
"Is there something on my face?" Ethan asked with a slight smile, sensing her hesitation.
"Oh, um, no, I... I'm Emily, Alice's friend. And you, um, how should I address you?" Emily stammered, quickly diverting her gaze and unintentionally patting his back with increased vigor to cover her embarrassment.
Ethan gently caught her wrist, his touch firm yet unexpectedly gentle. "Alright, Emily, let's stop this back-strengthening exercise. I'm James, nice to meet you." There was a brief pause as his words settled between them, a playful undertone in his voice.
Emily, now a bit more composed, responded cheerfully, "James, sorry about that. I practice boxing sometimes, and I guess I got a little carried away."
"Well, I appreciate the help, but I'm afraid you'll have to save me tomorrow," Ethan said, releasing her wrist softly and pretending to stumble as he tried to walk away.
Emily quickly caught him, her big eyes filled with genuine concern. "Sorry, just a bit of jet lag. You should head back to the bar; I'll rest a bit and then head to my room," Ethan suggested.
Sensing an opportunity, Emily smiled slightly and replied, "James, let me help you to your room. It's not safe for someone who's both drunk and jet-lagged to be alone. I'm staying in this hotel too, so it's no trouble at all."
They walked side by side, a comfortable silence settling between them, as if they had known each other far longer than the few minutes they had spent together. The night air was crisp, a stark contrast to the warm, dimly lit interiors of the bar they had just left. Ethan's steps were slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment, while Emily tried to match his pace, her mind racing with a mix of thoughts—anticipation, curiosity, and a hint of something she couldn't quite name.
As they reached Ethan's suite, the opulence of the surroundings was unmistakable. The luxurious furnishings, the understated elegance—everything spoke of a man who was accustomed to the finer things in life. But there was something else, a sense of isolation that clung to the air, as if the room had witnessed too many lonely nights.
Ethan fumbled with the key card for a moment, his hands unsteady—not from the alcohol, but from the unfamiliar sensation of vulnerability that Emily's presence seemed to evoke. Finally, the door clicked open, and they stepped inside. The door closed softly behind them, sealing them off from the world outside.
There was a brief moment of hesitation, a charged silence that hung between them like a delicate thread, ready to snap at the slightest touch. Then, almost as if by some unspoken agreement, they moved towards each other. Ethan's lips found Emily's in a kiss that was both gentle and intense, a heady mix of desire and something deeper, something unspoken. For Ethan, it was the culmination of a hunt, the moment when the predator finally claims his prey. But as their kiss deepened, he found himself caught off guard by the emotion that surged within him—an emotion he had long since buried under layers of control and detachment.
Emily, too, was swept away by the kiss, drawn in by the mysterious and complex emotions she saw in Ethan's eyes. She had never felt such an intense connection with anyone before, and it both thrilled and terrified her. As the kiss deepened, they both felt a rising desire to take things further. But a sudden cramp in her lower abdomen brought her back to reality. With a soft gasp, she gently pushed Ethan away.
"Sorry, I need to use the bathroom first," she said, her voice laced with a mixture of regret and embarrassment.
Ethan, his breath coming in shallow gasps, nodded wordlessly, stepping back to give her space. He watched as she disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing behind her with a soft click. For a moment, he stood there, his mind racing. This wasn't how he had planned the evening to go. He had expected to seduce her, to take what he wanted and then move on, as he always did. But something about Emily had disarmed him, made him feel things he hadn't felt in years.
In the bathroom, Emily leaned against the sink, her heart still racing from the intensity of the kiss. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the cramp in her abdomen reminded her of the reality of the situation. With a sinking feeling, she realized that her period had started—something she had completely forgotten about in her anxiety over the speech.
Embarrassed, she stepped out of the bathroom, her cheeks flushed with both the aftermath of their kiss and the awkwardness of the situation. "James, I just got my period. We... we should stop here for tonight. I'll head back to my room," she said, her voice soft and hesitant.
Ethan was taken aback for a moment, the sudden shift in mood catching him off guard. But then he smiled, a warm, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "That's okay, sit down. I'll order room service and get you some sanitary pads. There's no rush." His tone was gentle, reassuring, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something other than the cold detachment that usually defined his interactions with others.
He rubbed his hands together to warm them before placing them on Emily's abdomen, gently massaging in slow, soothing circles. "Don't worry. My mother is Chinese, and she always used a hot water bottle during her period. She said it helped with the discomfort. We don't have one here, but this will have to do."
"Thank you," Emily murmured, her initial embarrassment fading as she relaxed under the comforting warmth of his hands. Although she rarely suffered from menstrual pain, the soothing sensation was hard to resist, and she closed her eyes, a contented smile spreading across her face. There was something unexpectedly intimate about the moment, a tenderness that neither of them had anticipated.
A short while later, room service arrived. After Emily got everything sorted, she was about to leave when she noticed that it had started snowing outside. The large windows of the suite offered a breathtaking view of the snowflakes falling gently from the sky, illuminated by the soft glow of the city lights. The moonlight glistened on the falling snowflakes, making it seem as though the Snow Queen herself might descend from the sky.
"It's so rare—snow in Las Vegas!" Emily's eyes sparkled with an uncontrollable joy. Growing up in a small town surrounded by nature, she had always loved the outdoors, but since college, she had rarely taken the time to appreciate such simple beauty. The sight of the snow brought back memories of her childhood, of winters spent playing in the snow and marveling at the quiet beauty of a world blanketed in white.
Ethan stood beside her, his gaze fixed on the falling snow. But while Emily saw beauty and wonder, Ethan saw something else entirely. The gentle snowfall brought back a memory he had long since buried—a memory of his mother, her figure stark against the white snow, her face pale and lifeless as she urged him to run, to escape. The coldness of the memory seeped into his heart, freezing the warmth he had felt just moments before.
But as he looked at Emily, her face alight with innocent joy, he pushed the memory aside. He didn't want to spoil the moment for her, didn't want to taint her happiness with the darkness of his past. Instead, he forced a smile and turned to her, his voice soft yet firm. "Emily, would you dance with me?"
Though it was phrased as a request, his hand was already outstretched, leaving no room for refusal. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a plea for connection that tugged at Emily's heart. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his, and they began to waltz. There was no music, but the snowy night provided the perfect backdrop, and their heartbeats set the rhythm. Their steps were light and steady, as if they were floating on a cloud.
Ethan led with firm, fluid movements, guiding Emily in graceful backward steps. As they spun, Emily's dress twirled in the air, creating elegant arcs, and her smile shone like the warm sun of spring, radiating sweetness and affection. They moved closer and then apart, maintaining perfect harmony throughout, each step reflecting the deep connection between them. It was as if the world had paused, leaving them alone in a timeless space, dancing just for themselves.
Their heartbeats quickened, and their movements became lighter, almost as if they were soaring. Finally, with one final, sweeping turn, their dance came to an end. They locked eyes, and in that moment, it felt as if time had stopped altogether. For the first time in a long while, Ethan felt a glimmer of something he thought he had lost—a connection, a sense of belonging. And in Emily's eyes, he saw a reflection of the same emotions, a shared understanding that transcended words.