Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Lina

Mick's voice finally broke the silence between us.

His curious look slowly changed into something else. The teasing light that usually danced in his eyes was gone. Now they looked worried. Careful. The playful tone he had used earlier had disappeared completely, replaced by something quieter. Something that felt almost like concern.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," he said softly.

For a moment, I didn't answer.

The noise of the bar rushed back to me all at once. The loud music thumping through the floor. The flashing lights. The laughter and shouting of strangers who had no idea I was slowly falling apart in my seat. I hadn't even noticed when I drifted away into my own thoughts. One second I was here, and the next I was somewhere far away,somewhere quiet and painful — and Mick had been the one to pull me back.

I turned to look at him.

And there it was.

That smile.

The kind of smile that made my legs feel like they had forgotten how to work. The kind that made my heart knock against my ribs in a way that I could never explain or ignore. The kind that made my mind wander to places it had no right going; like wondering, just for a second, how his soft pink lips might feel against mine.

Heat rushed to my face the moment our eyes met.

I quickly looked away. But I already knew it was too late. I could feel it,the embarrassing warmth spreading across my cheeks, giving me away completely. Mick always noticed everything. It was one of the most wonderful and most terrible things about him.

He smiled again.

Wider this time.

Why is he smiling like that?

Does he know?

The thought sent a small wave of panic through my chest. Did he somehow know that I had been in love with him for years? Did he notice the way my breathing changed when he stood too close? The way my hands got nervous and my words got clumsy whenever he looked at me for too long?

No. He couldn't know.

I had never told anyone.

Not even Millicent.

Especially not Millicent.

I was still fighting with my own thoughts when I felt something warm wrap around my wrist.

Mick's hand.

His grip was gentle but certain, like he had already decided something before I had even had the chance to think.

"Let's go dance," he said.

Before I could react, he was already pulling me off the chair and leading me toward the crowd. People filled every inch of the space, bodies swaying and jumping to the heavy beat of the music.

"Wait—!" I tried to pull back, but it was no use.

He moved with confidence, guiding me through the crowd like he belonged anywhere he went. I stumbled along behind him, my heart already running faster than my feet.

When we finally stopped somewhere near the middle of the dance floor, I leaned close to his ear.

"I can't dance!" I nearly shouted over the music.

Mick looked down at me.

Then he smiled.

That smile again.

My heart did something embarrassing,like it tripped over itself and forgot to recover.

Without saying a word, he gently reached for my hands and placed them around his neck. Then his own hands settled at my waist and pulled me in. Slowly. Carefully. Like he was handling something fragile.

Too close.

Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Close enough that breathing felt like something I had to remind myself to do.

My brain went completely blank.

He dipped his head and brought his lips close to my ear, his breath soft and warm against my skin.

"I'll teach you," he said quietly.

I froze.

Every single part of me froze.

My heart was pounding so loudly that I was certain he could feel it through my chest. I wanted the floor to crack open and swallow me whole. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to stay exactly like this and never move again.

We began to sway slowly with the music. Or rather,Mick moved, and I did my best to follow without embarrassing myself. After a few moments, I stopped trying to think about what my feet were doing and just let him lead.

Then I noticed his smile had changed.

It was still soft. Still warm. But it was the kind of smile I recognized from a long time ago — the one he used to give Millicent and me when we were young children sitting around the piano together, struggling over our lessons. Whenever we hit a wrong note or lost the rhythm, he would smile exactly like this. Patient. Encouraging. Like making mistakes was the most normal thing in the world.

That same gentle smile.

He still saw me that way.

Like a little sister.

Just like Millicent.

The thought settled in my chest like something heavy. Millicent was his cousin, but Mick had always treated her like a younger sister teasing her, protecting her, looking out for her without ever being asked. And me? I was Millicent's best friend. I had simply been included in that same category, without question or discussion.

It felt safe. Familiar. Warm in a way that I was grateful for.

But it also hurt in a way I had never found the words for.

Because I wanted something different. Something more. And every time he looked at me with that soft, brotherly smile, I could feel that wanting being quietly pushed back down,like something I wasn't allowed to have.

I gave him a small smile back anyway. It was the best I could do.

We stayed like that for a little while, moving slowly together while the world buzzed around us. After a few more songs, my head started to feel heavy and light at the same time. The music seemed louder than before. The lights spun a little too brightly.

I leaned close to his ear again.

"Can we take a break?"

"You're tired?" he asked.

I nodded.

He guided me carefully through the crowd and back to our seats at the bar counter. The moment I sat down, I let out a long breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding.

We started talking again. At first it was easy, comfortable things…the kind of conversation that fills itself without any effort. Then slowly, it grew into something deeper. We talked about life. About work. About Australia. He told me stories about the places he had been,long empty roads that stretched on forever, beaches that looked like something from a dream, strange foods that had made him laugh or pull a face.

I listened to every word.

Something about sitting here like this…just the two of us, the noise of the bar fading into the background,made the tight feeling in my chest loosen a little. It almost felt like a date. I knew it wasn't. But I let myself pretend for a moment anyway, because pretending felt better than nothing.

"Mick," I said softly.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you back?"

The second those words left my mouth, I felt the shift.

Mick went quiet. His eyes dropped to his glass. He reached for it slowly, like the motion gave him something to do. He didn't look at me.

The smile was gone.

My chest tightened again.

He wasn't ready for that question. I could see it clearly — a tension moving through his jaw, his fingers wrapping too carefully around his glass. Mick had always been the kind of person who walked into any room and owned it without even trying. Confident. Relaxed. Unbothered. Seeing him like this,guarded and still,felt wrong in a way I couldn't quite name.

"It's okay," I said quickly. "You don't have to answer. Let's just drink."

I reached for my glass. The same strong drink I had ordered earlier, still sitting half-finished on the counter. Without giving myself time to think about it, I tipped my head back and finished it in one long swallow.

Mick stared at me.

"Careful," he said. "That's very strong."

I was already raising my hand toward the bartender.

"Another one, please."

"Are you trying to get drunk?" Mick asked, watching me slowly over the rim of his own glass.

"I just want to forget something," I said.

He didn't answer right away. He just looked at me. Steady and unblinking. And there was something in his eyes that I hadn't expected to find there,something that looked almost like guilt. A shadow behind his gaze, quiet and heavy.

Why does he look guilty?

He had walked into this bar smiling. He had pulled me onto the dance floor and laughed. And now he was looking at me like I had said something that pressed on a bruise he hadn't expected to find.

I didn't understand it.

The bartender returned and set a fresh glass in front of me. I looked away from Mick and wrapped my fingers around it.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

The comfortable quiet we had found earlier was gone. This silence felt different,careful and fragile, like something that might break if we touched it.

I focused on my drink. I was almost at the last sip when Mick's hand reached over and gently took the glass from me.

"You'll get drunk," he said simply, setting it aside.

I turned to look at him with slow, heavy eyes. My head felt like it was floating slightly above my shoulders. I reached out for the glass.

"I'm not drunk," I said. The words came out thicker than I intended.

"See?" he said quietly. "You already are."

He reached into his pocket without any fuss and took out his wallet. He paid for both our drinks quickly, standing up from the stool with an ease that I suddenly envied.

"Time to go home," he said.

Before I could figure out how to argue, I felt his arm wrap around my waist. And then the ground disappeared.

He lifted me like I weighed nothing. My arms looped around his neck on instinct, and I rested my head against his shoulder without thinking. His cologne filled the air around me,warm and clean and familiar in a way that made something in me ache softly.

I could stay here, I thought.

I could stay here and never move.

The loud music faded slowly as he carried me through the bar and out into the night. The cool air touched my face, sharp and gentle at the same time. Then I felt myself being lowered carefully into a car seat, the door closing softly beside me.

And as the world outside the window began to blur and spin, I closed my eyes and let myself stop thinking.

Just for a little while.