Chapter 9

Ayleen's POV

I put on an outfit similar to hers—simple and casual. If she was dressed down today, then I assumed we weren’t going anywhere extravagant. As I stepped outside, I glanced around for her car but didn’t see it anywhere. Just as I was about to ask if she had walked, a sharp beep caught my attention. I turned to see her sitting behind the wheel of a convertible Chrysler.

"Really?" I rolled my eyes, already unimpressed.

Clara smirked. "It’s just this one and the other car. Please don’t think I have a fleet of them," she said with an exaggerated pout.

"Oh no, of course not," I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why would I ever think that? You only have two luxury cars. Completely understandable."

"Silly," she teased, pinching my cheek before dramatically putting on her sunglasses. With a flourish, she pressed a button, and the roof retracted smoothly. I watched as the sun kissed her face, making the golden hues in her eyes stand out even more. Beautiful. That was all I could think.

To my surprise, she actually took me to a small, cozy restaurant, nothing over-the-top. We picked a table outside, the warm breeze making the setting feel almost… intimate.

"It’s nice," I said, breaking the silence that had settled over us during the car ride.

"I like it here," she said, taking off her sunglasses and placing them on the table. "It’s quiet."

Her gaze lingered on me, unwavering, and suddenly, I felt like I was under a microscope.

"So, have you had the chance to explore New York yet?" she asked.

"Not really," I admitted.

"That won’t do. Let’s go for a walk after this," she suggested, so casually, as if it were inevitable.

"Actually, I’d love that. I enjoy walks," I admitted, offering her a small smile.

"Your smile is beautiful. You should do it more often," she said, reaching out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.

I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat.

"I—uh—I smile a lot, don’t I?" I tried to sound unaffected, but the warmth in my face betrayed me.

"You do," she said smoothly, "but when you play, you look so serious, so focused. Like you’re somewhere else entirely."

"That’s because I am," I admitted. "I try to visualize the notes in front of me, and I’m always afraid of making mistakes."

"You looked beautiful either way."

Okay, she had no shame. She was attacking me from every angle, and it was working.

"But I might look creepy if I just smiled for no reason while playing," I pointed out, trying to find any excuse to diffuse the tension.

"Better than looking too serious. When I walk into the courtroom, I always have this terrifying expression—sometimes I think even the devil complains that I’m stealing his intimidating look," she joked, grinning.

"I find that hard to believe," I blurted out before thinking.

Clara’s brow lifted slightly, her lips curving into a slow, playful smile.

Did I just… flirt back?

I quickly backtracked. "I mean—you don’t seem scary to me. You seem like a good person. Fun, even."

Her smirk remained, but her voice softened. "Only with a few people."

"So I’m privileged," I teased, trying to lighten the moment.

Clara tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her gaze. "I would definitely say so. But let’s order. I didn’t bring you here to starve you."

She helped me pick out something from the menu, even recommending her favorite dish. When she asked if I drank, I told her I would if she did. So, we ordered a bottle of red wine.

"So," she said as she cut into her steak, "I know you’re from Utah. Your family owns a farm. You have a brother. You’re nineteen. What else?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Wow. And all I know about you is that you’re a lawyer and have two fancy cars."

"I asked first," she countered smugly. "Tell me."

I sighed, giving in. "My brother is married. He has a daughter, Lily."

"How cute," she said, her voice softer. "Do you like being an aunt?"

"She’s my little angel," I admitted, a genuine smile forming as I thought about her.

Clara’s smirk faded slightly. "I’ll never be an aunt."

I blinked. "Oh… why?"

She gave me a pointed look. "Because I’m an only child, silly."

"Oh, right," I muttered, feeling a little stupid for asking. "You mentioned it was just you and your mom."

She nodded, setting down her fork. "She raised me alone after my father bailed on us. We moved to Greenport—outskirts of New York. That’s where her family lives. Marcus’s mom. She had to work a lot to keep us afloat. When I got older, I worked as hard as I could. Studied my ass off. Became a lawyer. And then I worked even harder. I wanted to give her the life she deserved after everything she sacrificed for me."

There was something raw in her voice. Something… unguarded.

I reached across the table, hesitantly placing my hand over hers.

She let me.

"She must be proud of you," I said sincerely. "And I’m happy you managed to build a better life for yourself, Clara."

She gave me a small, almost bashful smile, before shifting slightly in her seat. It was subtle, but I could tell—she wasn’t used to opening up like this.

We continued talking as we finished our food, our conversations flowing between childhood stories, my new job, my dreams for the future. She insisted on taking me for that walk, and promised ice cream, which, surprisingly, I found adorable.

Later, when she pulled up in front of my apartment, I turned to face her, fidgeting slightly with my seatbelt.

"Clara," I said hesitantly, "can I ask you something?"

She smirked. "Ask, Angel."

My heart stuttered.

Did she just— did she just call me that? She didn’t seem to notice the nickname, but I did. And so did the butterflies in my stomach.

"Why did you buy me the keyboard?" I finally asked. "And don’t say it was a gift for the band. Why did you come to my apartment and take me to lunch?"

Clara tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. "It wasn’t for the band," she admitted. "It was for you. When I saw you play, I was enchanted. You seemed so innocent, yet so beautiful. Then, when we talked, I realized you were also kind. Sweet. I wanted to help."

"That easily?" I whispered, almost afraid of the answer. "You just… help people? Buy them things? Take them to lunch?"

Clara let out a short laugh. "Why complicate things, Ayleen? I did what my heart told me to do. It’s not like I couldn’t afford it."

I hesitated. "I appreciate your honesty, even if I don’t understand your reason…"

"I don’t understand it either," she admitted, shrugging. "I just felt like it."

I swallowed hard. "It’s just that… I’m very different from you. You have your life figured out. You’re a successful lawyer. I’m just a lost college student."

Clara arched a brow. "Hey, hey, are you calling me old? I’m twenty-seven."

I laughed softly. "That’s not what I meant."

"Different is good sometimes," she murmured.

Then she leaned in, her fingers gently tilting my chin up.

My heart stopped.

"I want to kiss you," she whispered.

"I don't think that's a good idea," my voice came out weaker than I wanted, my resolve slipping the longer she looked at me like that.

"Let me kiss you so you keep me in your mind," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. She didn’t wait for my response.

Her lips pressed against mine, soft, warm, unwavering in confidence. She was too much—too bold, too sure, too intoxicating. My breath hitched as she took my bottom lip between hers, slow and deliberate, before pulling away just enough for me to think it was over—only to catch my lips again.

I gasped softly when I felt her tongue tease the seam of my mouth, searching, coaxing. My body tensed for a split second before instinct took over, and my lips moved in response, the sensation making my head swim. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t aggressive. It was controlled—like she was savoring every second of it.

Her hand never left my chin, her grip light but firm, keeping me exactly where she wanted.

And then, as quickly as it started, it was over.

I barely managed to open my eyes, my mind still catching up to what had just happened. Clara was staring at me, pupils blown wide, her honey-colored eyes darker than before—filled with something I couldn’t understand.

My heart pounded so hard I thought she could hear it.

"I… I should… I need to uh… yes, bye," I stammered, scrambling to open the door. My fingers fumbled with the handle, and I practically launched myself out of the car.

I managed not to trip this time, but my legs felt weak as I hurried toward my building, barely able to process what had just happened.

How the fuck did that kiss feel so amazing?!