Chapter 5: Into the unknown

After the restaurant, we decided to take a walk. The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange. A cool breeze brushed past, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me, trying to fight off the chill. But it wasn’t just the cold that had me shivering—it was the thought of the day coming to an end. I didn’t want it to. Not yet.

I glanced at Irene as she walked beside me, her hands tucked casually into her sweatshirt pockets. Her posture was relaxed, her head tilted slightly as she pointed out random things along the way—a funny-looking tree, a group of ducks waddling by the lake, the crescent moon just beginning to peek through the clouds. She had this effortless charm that made everything feel lighter, brighter.

My heart raced every time she smiled, and the urge to reach out and take her hand was almost overwhelming. I’d never felt this way before. I wanted to kiss her, to close the space between us and see if she felt the same pull I did. But I was too awkward, too unsure. Would it be too sudden? Too bold? I chewed on my lip, my hands stuffed deep into my pockets to keep from fidgeting.

As we rounded a quiet corner of the park, Irene turned to me. “So,” she said, her voice as warm as the evening light, “we could call it a night, or… we could keep this going. There’s a nice bar not too far from here.”

The thought of a loud bar, full of people and noise, made my stomach twist with anxiety. Before I could say anything, she offered a second option.

“Or,” she added with a small smile, “we could have a cozy drink at my place. No pressure, though.”

Her place.

My heart did a somersault. The idea of being alone with her in her space felt both thrilling and terrifying. But it was infinitely better than a noisy bar. Besides, I didn’t want to admit that my underage self had no business being in one.

“Your place sounds nice,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

She smiled, her eyes softening. “Cool. Let’s go.”

Irene pulled out her phone, ordered a car share, and within minutes, we were on our way.

Sitting in the passenger seat while Irene drove was an experience I wasn’t prepared for. She gripped the wheel with an ease that radiated confidence, her focus sharp as she navigated the streets. Her hands—strong, steady, and oh-so-sexy—moved with precision, and every now and then, she’d glance over at me, a small smile tugging at her lips.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The way her fingers tapped lightly against the wheel, the faint glow of the dashboard reflecting off her cheekbones, the casual way she leaned back in her seat—it all sent butterflies spiraling through my stomach.

My mind wandered to places it probably shouldn’t have. If we weren’t hurtling down the road at 40 miles per hour, I might have thrown caution to the wind and kissed her right then and there. But I wasn’t about to risk both our lives for my impulsive daydreams. So instead, I focused on the moment, letting myself savor every little detail about her.

“You okay over there?” she asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was laced with amusement.

I realized I’d been staring. My cheeks burned, and I quickly looked out the window. “Yeah, just… enjoying the ride.”

She laughed softly, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. “Good. Let me know if I’m driving too fast.”

“You’re fine,” I said quickly, though my heart was racing for entirely different reasons.

The rest of the drive was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt natural, like we didn’t need to fill it with meaningless chatter. My nerves were still there, fluttering wildly, but they were accompanied by something else—excitement. Anticipation.

When we finally pulled up in front of her building, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Irene parked the car, turned off the engine, and turned to me with that same easy smile.

“Ready?” she asked.

Not even close, I thought. But I nodded anyway. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As I stepped out of the car, my legs felt like jelly. I didn’t know what would happen next, but I knew one thing for sure: I’d never been more captivated by anyone in my entire life.

Irene lived on the fourth floor of an old building. The staircase was narrow and spiraled endlessly upward, each step a reminder of how out of shape I was. My knees protested loudly, and by the time we reached her door, I was gasping for air.

She chuckled softly, turning the key in the lock. “You good?”

“Totally,” I lied, leaning against the wall and trying to catch my breath.

When she pushed the door open, my jaw nearly dropped. Her apartment was massive—four rooms with ceilings so high they seemed to stretch into the clouds, probably four meters at least. The space felt open, with an old-world charm that made it feel like stepping into a different era.

Despite the size, the apartment was sparsely decorated. The furniture was simple and functional, almost minimalist. A clean, gray couch sat in the living room, accompanied by a low coffee table. A small dining table and a few chairs stood near the kitchen, and the walls were bare except for the tall windows letting in the faint evening light. It was pristine, almost too pristine, like it had been untouched by everyday chaos.

Irene kicked off her shoes and gestured for me to do the same. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab some wine.”

I nodded, still in awe as I wandered further in. Everything about the place screamed Irene—clean, composed, but with a quiet, unspoken depth.

When she returned, she had a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. She poured us each a generous serving, handing me a glass before taking a sip from her own.

“Want to watch something?” she asked, her tone casual.

“Sure,” I said, trying not to sound too eager.

She led me to her room. It was just as minimalistic as the rest of the apartment—bare walls, a simple bed frame with a mattress, a standing lamp in the corner, and a TV mounted on the opposite wall. There were no decorations, no personal touches, just the essentials. It was so different from my own room, which was cluttered with books, posters, and half-finished projects.

Irene set her glass down on the nightstand and patted the bed. “Come on, sit.”

The heat rushed to my face, and I felt like I was glowing red from head to toe. I hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly perched on the edge of the mattress, clutching my wine glass like a lifeline. She plopped down beside me, leaning back against the pillows, her presence both comforting and overwhelming at the same time.

She grabbed the remote and flicked through a streaming menu before settling on 28 Days Later. “Hope you’re okay with zombies,” she said with a small grin.

“Zombies are fine,” I mumbled, though I doubted I’d be paying much attention to the screen.

Irene’s shoulder was warm against mine, her scent—a mix of something earthy and fresh—filling the small space between us. The wine had darkened her lips, making them look even more inviting. Every time she took a sip, I couldn’t help but follow the movement, completely captivated.

The film blurred into the background, the tension of the plot lost on me. All I could think about was Irene. Her soft chuckle at a scene I’d completely missed. The way her fingers brushed her hair back when it fell in her face. The faint smirk she gave when she noticed me stealing glances.

I shifted slightly, trying to calm the fluttering in my chest. My palms were damp, and I was acutely aware of every inch of space—or lack thereof—between us. Part of me wanted to lean in, to close the distance and find out if her lips were as soft as they looked. But I was frozen, too nervous to act, too afraid to break the spell.

“You good?” she asked suddenly, her voice low, her gaze sliding to meet mine.

I snapped out of my trance, my cheeks burning. “Yeah, totally. Just… really into the movie.”

She raised an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. “Sure you are.”

I laughed nervously, taking another sip of wine to avoid saying anything else. My heart raced as her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before she turned back to the screen.

I wasn’t sure what was happening between us, but it felt electric—like the air was charged with possibilities I wasn’t quite ready to name. And for now, that was enough.With  the credits rolling quietly on the screen, Irene stretched, her arms raised above her head. She let out a soft sigh and turned to me, her eyes warm and relaxed. “It’s late,” she said, her voice gentle. “You should just stay here tonight. No point going back this late.”

My heart leaped at her suggestion. Stay the night? Here? With her? I nodded quickly, not trusting my voice to stay steady. “Yeah, that… that makes sense.”

She smiled and stood up. “I’ll grab you some blankets and stuff. Be right back.”

The moment she left the room, I whipped out my phone and turned on the front-facing camera, anxiously checking my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, my hair slightly mussed, and my lipstick—a faint tint I’d barely put on earlier—was smudged. I quickly adjusted my hair, trying to make myself look less flustered, though my heart was still pounding.

And then the panic hit.

Was she planning on having sex with me?

The thought sent my brain into a tailspin. What if she was? What if that was the unspoken implication of me staying over? How was it even done? I knew the mechanics between a man and a woman, sure, but between two girls? That was uncharted territory for me.

I felt a wave of self-doubt crash over me. What if she thought I was awkward? What if she could tell how inexperienced I was? What if she decided I was too immature, too clueless for this?

But even through the panic, one thought stood out, clear and undeniable: I wanted her.

I wanted to feel her warmth, to know what it was like to be closer to her. My heart raced at the thought, my body buzzing with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

The door creaked open, and I quickly locked my phone, shoving it into my pocket as Irene walked back in with a pile of blankets. She set them on the edge of the bed, her movements casual and unhurried.

“Here we go,” she said, glancing at me with a small smile. “All set.”

I stood, my legs feeling like jelly. My mind screamed at me to stay calm, to think this through, but my body moved before I could stop it. I closed the distance between us, my heart hammering in my chest. I stepped so close that I could feel the warmth radiating off her, her soft breathing brushing against my forehead.

Irene froze, her brows lifting slightly in surprise. Her gaze locked onto mine, searching, questioning, but not pulling away.

For a second, I hesitated, the enormity of what I was about to do crashing over me. But the look in her eyes—soft, curious, and something else I couldn’t quite name—gave me the courage to close the gap.

She knew exactly what I wanted.

Her lips quirked into a small, almost imperceptible smile before she leaned in, closing the space between us.

And then her lips met mine.