Chapter Nineteen

Nineteen

I walk my bike half of the way home because I can't get myself to stop sobbing, and that's probably not considered safe riding.

I look at my surroundings, a Copenhagen blurred by tears, and wonder if this is where the dream ends. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe. I've messed it up, and I don't see a way to fix the situation.

My family is filling my phone with notifications, as always, and I should be feeling in need of support, but I don't want to talk to any of them.

In fact, I feel blessed for not being there, where I can't avoid my mom's scrutiny, my cousins' indiscretion, and my whole family, friends, neighbors, and whoever else the gossip reaches, giving me opinions, judgment, and unwelcome guidance.

I feel oddly separated from everything related to the life I had in Brazil. Denmark is becoming my home. I'm more attached to it every day, despite my reservations regarding certain aspects of the culture. None of the people back home know what that's like. None of them have ever been to another country.

They are perfectly fine there and will tell me I'll be fine there and should just go home. None of them truly believed I'd make it here. They're just waiting for me to come back and tell them, You were right. It wasn't for me.

That will never happen though. If I do end up having to go back, I won't be fine . I would have failed. I would have lost not only the life I have here but the life I could have had.

A life that is no longer just a magazine photo collage or a mental picture formed after an enticing conversation—but an image so vivid and full of sounds, tastes, and colors it will follow me for the rest of my days.

When I enter the apartment, I'm still not done crying. My plan is to hide in my room for the rest of the evening with my phone turned off. I come across Erik in the hallway, however. As soon as he asks me, "What's wrong?" I hug him around the waist and bury my head in his chest.

"What's happening, Sol?" He comforts me, pressing me tight and caressing my back as I shed tears.

I say I went out with a guy I met on Cinder when he was away, and that the guy happened to be Thomas Hansen, a friend of Martin's, and now Martin knows we're not together and is threatening to tell Lars if I don't.

I'm not sure Erik can grasp the whole emotional disturbance inside me. While my family doesn't know what it means to live in Denmark, Erik doesn't know what it's like to live in Brazil. I might have told him what I'm afraid to get back to, but he won't feel it in his bones, even if I go into more detail.

Besides, he also doesn't know what I feel for him or how my future at Scorpio means everything regarding us .

I want to make sure he doesn't think I'm crying over stupid Thomas Hansen, so I say, "I don't care about the idiot I went out with. But Martin might ruin everything for me at Scorpio now, and he is just so...obnoxious."

I cry a bit more on Erik's chest, shaking with my sobs, and my body can't ignore how close to his heart I am, even when I'm so desolate.

"Yes, he is obnoxious," Erik sympathizes, one of his hands running up and down my back, making me less sad but also shakier. "We won't let him get to you, okay? He'll ruin nothing for you."

I snort, drying a tear. Erik's chest is so warm and comforting... I don't want to ever leave this spot.

"Chiara knows too..."

Erik breaks the embrace to look at me, and I dry the rest of my tears with my sleeve. My face must be all red and swollen, and I don't want Erik to see me in this state, but I also can't avoid his eyes.

"We talked in the bathroom today," I tell him before he asks how Chiara found out. "She and Anika noticed we weren't a couple..." I look down, swallowing hard. "And by the way, she and Anika broke up."

"No, really?" He reacts just like I did, disappointed to hear it.

"Anika is moving to Stockholm. She got her dream job there."

"That's nice for her. And they couldn't keep it long distance?"

I shake my head, sniffing. "Chiara thinks I should tell Lars...and now Martin is threatening me. I don't see a way out of this."

Team Sol & Storm will be over —the realization hits me like a punch in the gut. There'll be no more fake dating. No more excuses to spend time with Erik, touching him, kissing him...

I won't get the promotion. My breath gets stuck in my throat, and a new tear rolls slowly down my cheek.

And I'll most likely be fired for dishonesty —the thought slaps me in the face, leaving me red with shame.

I'll be unemployed. Broke. Homeless. Visa-less. And will have no choice but to go back to Brazil.

"Don't panic yet, okay?" Erik sees I'm hyperventilating. "Sol, look at me." He takes my face in his hands and lifts it so I can meet his eyes. They are so blue, so beautiful, so sincere...

"Martin is one of those aggressive little dogs that barks loud but never bites."

I laugh at his metaphor. "He looks a little like a Chihuahua."

"Yeah, he does." Erik laughs with me, and for a second, my tears stop falling. "Lars trusts me, and he trusts you too."

"That's precisely why it will be so bad when he finds out..."

"It won't, because he will not find out." Erik sounds confident, which calms me. The warmth of his hands on my face also helps. "Martin could tell Lars the truth, but then he'd have to hope Lars would believe him. If we continue to be a couple, Lars will believe us ." Erik looks intensely at me, his hands still framing my face. I hold my breath. " We are his favorites, not Martin. If Martin goes down that road and persists, Lars will think he's a desperate man trying all sorts of tricks to beat the competition." He takes his hands off my cheeks, but I still feel the heat of his fingers.

"Martin would go down that road though, wouldn't he?" I bite my lip again.

"No, he's bluffing, of course. He's not that stupid. He knows all this, and that's why he hopes he can make you confess."

Erik sees I'm still uncertain and takes one tiny step closer, his body almost meeting mine. I shiver.

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"I know the two men, Sol. And Martin knows me well too. He doesn't expect me to remain by your side to the end. He's scared as hell, feeling threatened by us, and he's making his last desperate move to get you to give up before the finish line. So, this is how we win—we stay the course."

I bite my lip harder. Erik opens my mouth with his thumb to stop me from hurting myself, but the gesture is so sexy I almost pull him toward my lips.

"So, we keep lying?"

"Until the end."

His eyes are serene, assertive. I think of what Chiara said.

"But it's not right..."

"Backing away won't do any good now. You'll just be delivering the victory to Martin. Do you want that to happen?"

I shake my head.

"Let's kick his ass tomorrow. Let's show them who is not a couple." He gives me a sly smile, and I almost, almost grab his neck and kiss him.

The thought of faking it with him tomorrow is so exciting I decide I can wait. My lust—or at least part of it—will be satisfied in a safe environment.

For once, I have the feeling that he is looking forward to it too.

"How about a movie night? I guess you can't focus on the project today."

Erik mentioning the project gets my heart racing even faster. He does want to keep working on the app with me after all. I feel like singing.

"A movie night sounds great," I say.

We make popcorn and sandwiches and sit on his couch. I let him choose the movie, and he picks Pulp Fiction . It's his favorite Tarantino movie, the one he says I must watch because of its memorable performances. He puts an arm around me, and I lean on his chest.

It's such a surreal moment. I never imagined we'd reach this level of intimacy. I can hear his heart. My head moves up and down to the rhythm of his steady breathing. His sweatshirt is thick, but I feel his hard muscles under my fingers. His scent is right under my nose, rising directly from his skin. His rough beard is touching the top of my head, scratchy. Irresistible.

It's very hard to stay still, but at the same time, snuggling here is so pleasurable that I close my eyes to enjoy the sensations. I couldn't care less about the movie. It's just an excuse to enjoy him . The darkness in the room makes my reaction easier to conceal—my flushed face, my gaze sneaking around his body, discreetly taking in every curve.

I can't hide the irregular pace of my breathing though, and he can't hide his heartbeat. For a lot of the movie, it's accelerated like mine.

I could stay in this cuddling position forever. It's the warmth and safety I needed after such a tough day. But it's getting hard not to feel lustful.

As the movie nears its end, I move my hands slowly on his chest, with just my fingertips. I wait for a reaction, for him to move my hand away and get up, but he remains still. I watch him and he doesn't take his eyes off the TV, acting as if nothing is happening. His Adam's apple bobs though, and his muscles tense.

This might not be an invitation to continue, but I do. My hand rises, tempting him near the V-neck of his sweatshirt. When my fingertips make contact with his skin, I feel him shudder. He turns to me and we stare at each other in silence for what feels like endless seconds. I don't know if I should go on or not. His serious face could mean he's controlling himself so he doesn't throw me off his couch or so he doesn't pull me toward his lips.

A thousand pictures flash in front of my eyes, all of them involving us naked on this couch. We are both breathing hard, and I notice that's not the only hard thing he is dealing with. I look at the erection in his pants, and my hand begins to slide down into them, but Erik shakes his head in a brief, decisive way.

He swallows visibly and puts his hand over mine, stopping it just above the waistband of his jeans. His eyes are soft and restless—not the eyes of someone telling me no but instead saying, Not today. I want him so bad. But I respect his decision. I admire his control, and yet the insecure part of me wonders if I will ever be irresistible to him.

His fingers caress the back of my hand and rise up my arm, teasing me in a way that heats me between my legs, readying me for something that won't happen. His hand comes to rest on my face, and he strokes my cheek briefly before putting my hair behind my ear. I tilt my head back to look into his eyes.

"It was a long day, Sol." His voice sounds so hoarse and unsteady, it gives me chills. "Perhaps we should go to bed."

You in yours, me in mine , is what he's saying.

I nod, trying to put out my fire. I feel embarrassed. Rejected. Inappropriate.

He lifts my face when I look down. "Okay?" The word means a myriad of things in this context.

His eyes glint with repressed lust. He wants to know if I'm fine. He wants me to be all right after the blows I received today, and he doesn't believe us having sex will help. On the contrary.

And he is right.

I nod again, controlling my eyes so they won't start pooling. I love him for stopping me. For not letting his dick make a life-changing decision for both of us.

Because we are still roommates, and I don't want that to change.

He knows very well what happens when we cross that line. And I'm not going to be his second Lena.

I bring my hand to his face and caress him like he did me, then tuck his hair behind his ear.

" Godnat , Erik," I say and rise from his couch.

The credits are rolling, and as I turn to walk out of his room, I realize we didn't technically cross the line.

But, in fact, we already did.