Chapter 32 - The Taste of the Day
Neia woke to pale sunlight spilling through the curtains. Her first thought was that her pillow was unusually warm. The second was that it was breathing.
A small, cautious shift of her head confirmed it. She wasn’t lying on the couch at all. She was lying on Gideon. His arms rested loosely around her, the blanket pooled over them both, his heartbeat slow and steady beneath her ear.
Her mind went blank, then filled in a rush. What the— No, no, no. This is… not… good. How do I even get up without waking him? Should I wake him? What if he wakes up first and thinks—
Gideon stirred beneath her, a faint groan deep in his chest. He drew in a slow breath, catching that same floral-green scent from last night. His still-fogged mind told him his hands were resting on something warm, soft. For a moment, he thought it was a cushion. A very large, oddly shaped cushion.
Then his eyes opened.
This is not a cushion. It’s… Neia?
The jolt of awareness hit him like a blow. What. Oh no. No, nothing happened. Obviously nothing happened. How did this— Gods, she’s… on top of me. Do not notice how soft her hair looks, do not notice how warm she is, do not notice how soft she is…..
Then he became aware of everything else. His hands were resting on the small of her back, just above her hips, her body fitting perfectly into his palms. The slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing brushed warmth into his chest, each exhale feather-light through his shirt. One of her hands was curled comfortably against him beneath her cheek, the other resting lower, over the flat of his stomach.
It was suddenly far too much. The weight of her, the heat, the way she was settled so trustingly against him. His heart lurched and then began to hammer so hard he could hear it in his ears. The sound filled his head, each beat faster than the last, his breath hitching without his permission.
Alright. Focus on something else. Anything else. Sheep. One sheep, two sheep… why are they all herding straight over my ribcage? No. Start again. One sheep. Two sheep. Three… nope, that isn’t working, is it. Gods above.
Neia felt the shift instantly. The steady rhythm she’d been resting against turned into a fast, unsteady drum. Her stomach tightened. He’s awake. He knows. And he’s panicking.
The tension wound tighter with each second. If she kept lying here, they would both self-destruct from the awkwardness. She took the only escape she could think of. Pretending to wake up.
Her lashes fluttered, and she let her voice come out low and rough from sleep. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” he replied, trying and failing to keep his voice even. So much for nonchalance.
“Gods, I must have passed out,” she said, sitting up quickly. “I am so sorry for using you as a mattress.”
“I should apologise too,” he said, managing a half-smile. “Possibly the most uncomfortable mattress you’ve ever… slept on.”
The silence after that was loud. The both awkwardly sit on the couch, avoiding eye-contact. And then, they both started, “Did we—” then stopped in unison, shaking their heads.
“No,” she said quickly. “Couldn’t have.”
“Of course not,” he agreed, too fast.
He cleared his throat and gestures toward the hall. “Bathroom’s through there. I’ve got some travel amenities, and a clean shirt if you’d rather not wear the same clothes home.”
“Thanks.” She took the offer and slipped away, the door clicking shut behind her.
Gideon stayed frozen for a moment, then exhaled sharply and looked down at himself. His shirt was rumpled, faintly warm where her head had been. Without thinking, he gave it the smallest sniff.
…Smells like her.
The thought slammed into him, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. What are you doing? Cut it out, you creep. He muttered under his breath, “Get a grip,” before heading for the kitchen.
In the bathroom, Neia braced her hands on the sink, her heart still racing. It’s fine. You just fell asleep. On him. With his arms around you. No, stop thinking about that. And stop remembering how warm he was. And absolutely stop thinking about how hot his voice sounded just now.
She splashed water on her face, determined to act normal, even if her cheeks betrayed her.
Back in the kitchen, Gideon filled two glasses of water and tried to steady his breathing. Every time his mind replayed the sight of her looking up at him in the morning light, his pulse spiked all over again. Half of him wanted to run laps around the block until the feeling faded. The other half… didn’t want it to fade at all.
The steam from the shower had barely faded from Neia’s hair when she stepped out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed and far less flustered than she had an hour ago. She padded toward the kitchen, drawn by the warm, sweet scent of something cooking.
Gideon was already there, moving with the easy precision of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. On the counter sat two plates of French toast, each dusted with powdered sugar, and beside them a mug of coffee for himself and a cup of herbal tea for her.
His back was to her, sleeves rolled to his forearms, shirt untucked, hair tousled in a way she had never seen before. It was far from his usual polished self, and somehow, that made him even more endearing. He was humming softly to himself while preparing a smaller plate. Breakfast for Sir Pounceforth.
Neia lingered in the doorway, smiling to herself. It almost feels like we’re a married couple… hehe… Oh my Gods, Neia, stop it.
The sound of paws on the floor made her glance down. Sir Pounceforth trotted over, tail held high. “Good morning, Lady Moonblade,” he said, his expression far too knowing for a cat. “I trust you slept well on top of my personal helper last night, yes?”
Her cheeks flamed. “Well, good morning to you too, Sir Pounceforth,” she murmured in reply, unable to stop herself.
That, of course, caught Gideon’s attention. He turned, ready to tell her breakfast was ready, only to freeze. For a beat, he simply stared. She was wearing his clean shirt, the hem brushing her thighs, loose enough to hide whatever shorts she had underneath. In the morning light, it looked less like a borrowed shirt and more like a sundress. His heart gave a painful, traitorous lurch.
He realised too late that his jaw had actually dropped. Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes up to her face. “Good morning. You… uh… you look good,” he said, the words coming out more sheepishly than intended.
Neia’s lips curved into a soft giggle. “Thanks. And thank you for the amenities and the shirt,” she added, glancing toward the table. “This looks amazing.”
“I just need a couple of minutes to freshen up,” he said quickly, gesturing vaguely toward the hall. “If you’re hungry, you can start without me.”
“I’ll wait,” she said easily. “It’s the weekend. I have nowhere to be.”
He nodded and made his way to the bathroom, very aware of the heat in his face and the smile tugging at his mouth. Seeing her there, in his home, in his shirt, sunlight on her hair… It felt like something out of a dream.
Did I drink too much and die last night? Is this heaven?
The thought followed him into the bathroom as he splashed water on his face, the grin refusing to leave. Even if it was just a borrowed shirt and a shared breakfast, it was enough to make him feel like the luckiest man alive.
The last crumbs of French toast were gone, the dishes stacked neatly on the counter. Morning light poured into the kitchen, warm and lazy, catching in the steam from the kettle. Gideon leaned against the counter, coffee in hand, watching Neia cradle her tea at the table.
“So,” he asked casually, “you got plans for today?”
She shook her head, smiling into her cup. “Nothing at all. Why?”
“Because I don’t either.” He cleared his throat, glancing out the window. “Nice day. We could… wander. Check out the market.”
It wasn’t exactly smooth, but her smile widened all the same. “Alright. I’m in.”
Korth’s weekend market was alive with colour and sound. The scent of baking bread and roasting meat drifted over the crowd, mixing with the crisp, river-fed breeze. Vendors called out their wares, stalls draped in silks and jars of bright preserves. Every so often, Gideon’s hand found the small of Neia’s back as they moved through tighter patches of people. Each time, she felt the warm, tentative pressure and bit back a smile.
They stopped at a stall stacked with bolts of fabric, colours rippling like water. Neia’s fingers trailed over deep green silk, her voice softening. “We used to get wandering merchants like this in the grove. Once, when I was seventeen, I skipped classes with my then boyfriend to see them. My father was… less than thrilled.”
“Your first boyfriend,” he said evenly. “Finlay, right?”
Her brows rose. “Yes. How—”
“You’ve mentioned him before.” His gaze shifted to the next stall, where buckets of wildflowers spilled in every colour. Without another word, he stepped forward, exchanged a few coins, and came back holding a modest bouquet.
Her eyes widened. “What’s this for?”
“They reminded me of you,” he said, and his hand went immediately to rub the back of his neck.
She caught the movement, fighting a grin. “Why, thank you, Mr. Thorne.” She lingered in his gaze a moment longer than necessary, just to see his ears turn pink.
Over lunch at a small tavern tucked away from the main square, they talked about their childhoods. “I wasn’t exactly popular with the girls,” Gideon admitted, poking at his food. “Bit pudgy when I was younger.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Pudgy? Really?”
““Oh, it was bad. Couldn’t run a block without wheezing. Eventually I decided if I was going to survive training, I had to change that. On the other hand, Caelan’s always been… well, Caelan. I can’t count the number of times girls have approached me just to get closer to him.”
Neia grinned, leaning in just enough to watch the tips of his ears redden. “Well, I think I would have liked you back then.”
His hand twitched on the table, but he didn’t look up. “No way, you’re just saying that.”
“No,” she said softly, and his gaze flicked to hers. She smiled. “I’m sure I would have.”
That made him look away, ears darkening again. She decided she liked seeing him like this — a little bashful, a little off-balance — and stored the knowledge for later. “Y’know, I used to be a tomboy when I was little,” she continued. “Didn’t want to lose to the boys in the grove. Climbing trees, racing, wrestling… if they could do it, so could I.”
“What happened?” he asked.
She smiled into her drink. “I guess, as I grew up, I realised being feminine isn’t a weakness. It’s a choice. And I like both sides of me.”
His gaze lingered longer than it should have. “Me to— I mean, It suits you. Both sides.”
She hid her grin behind her teacup, certain now that he didn’t even realise when he was flirting.
Not long after lunch, as they continued walking around the city, they passed a small crowd gathered around a dart game. The prizes ranged from trinkets to stuffed toys. “You ever played?” Gideon asked.
“Not in years,” Neia said, but stepped up anyway. Her first dart hit just shy of the target. The second landed closer. The third struck cleanly in the centre. The vendor handed her a small teddy bear with a stitched smile and soft brown fur.
She turned to Gideon, holding it out. “Gideon, look! Here. In exchange for the bouquet.”
He blinked. “You’re giving me a bear?”
“It reminded me of you,” she said, grinning mischievously. Sure enough, there was that awkward little half-smile again as he took it, tucking it carefully under his arm like it was worth more than gold.
By the time they reached the river, the late afternoon light had turned the water to molten gold. They leaned against the railing, side by side, watching the current shift and glimmer. A breeze caught a strand of hair, sending it across her cheek. Gideon’s hand lifted almost of its own accord, brushing it back with the gentlest touch. His knuckles grazed her skin, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
He dropped his hand, eyes fixed on the river as if it held the secret to steadying his heartbeat. They left the river path as the first lanterns lit along the streets. Neia glanced at him, her fingers tightening briefly on the bouquet. Then, with a little spark of daring, she slipped her arm through his.
He froze mid-step. His breath caught, and she felt the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. His ears flushed almost instantly. He could have left it at that. He should have. But something in him, the same stubborn courage that got him through the worst nights on the frontlines, stirred. Slowly, he lifted his free hand, resting it lightly over hers where it curled around his elbow. His palm was warm, steady.
Then, in one careful motion, he slid her hand down the length of his arm until their fingers met. For a moment, they hovered there, and she thought maybe he’d pull away after all. But instead, his fingers threaded through hers, locking gently, like he’d been wanting to do it all day.
He didn’t look at her, didn’t say a word. But his thumb brushed once against her knuckles, and she could feel his heartbeat in the silence between them. Neia could barely hide the smile on her face as they both continued to walk home, holding hands in public like love-struck teenagers.
When they reached her door, the lanternlight cast her in warm gold. She turned, the flowers still in her arms. “Thank you for today,” she said softly. “It’s been… a while since I’ve had a day like this.”
“Same here,” he replied, voice low. “You make good company, Neia.”
Her gaze lingered on his, dipping once to his mouth before returning to his eyes. He lifted a hand, straightening her jacket collar, fingers brushing the edge of her neck. He gave her a gentle smile, the kind that makes his babyface look somehow manlier.
“Goodnight, Neia.”
“Goodnight, Gideon.”
She slipped inside, leaning against the door with the flowers pressed to her chest, smiling like she was seventeen again. While Gideon stood there for a moment longer, the little bear under his arm, before he finally turned for home. A boyish grin broke loose before he’d even reached the corner.
Gods, I am such a happy man right now.