She looked at him. "You paid off Danny’s debt. Two hundred and eighty thousand dollars. You found information on Victor Hale that made him sign a legal agreent to leave us alone. You did all of that in two weeks." She paused. "I don’t know who you really are, Sean. I don’t know where this money cos from or how an eighteen-year-old walks into Victor Hale’s office and walks out with his signature. But whatever is happening with you, whatever you are doing..." She stopped. Her voice was steady but only just. "You saved this building. You saved my brother. And I couldn’t sleep last night because I realized I never actually said thank you. Not properly. I just kissed you and cried and then you left."
Sean put his fork down slowly.
He looked at her across the small table. The morning light was coming through the window behind her, catching the edges of her hair. She was looking at him with those blue eyes that were doing too many things at once. Gratitude. Guilt. Sothing else underneath both of those that she hadn’t nad yet.
"You said thank you," said Sean.
"I know," said Makima. "But I wanted to say it again. Properly. Looked at you properly and said it." She held his gaze. "Thank you, Sean. For everything. For every single thing you did."
The apartnt was quiet.
Outside a car passed on the street below. Sowhere in the building sothing creaked.
"You’re welco," said Sean.
Makima let out a small breath. Like she’d been holding it since she knocked on the door.
"Good," she said quietly. "Okay." She wrapped her hands tighter around her coffee cup. "Can I ask you sothing?"
"Sure."
"Last night. What I did." She looked at him carefully. "Was that strange? For you. Given the..." She gestured vaguely between them. "The situation."
Sean considered the question honestly. "No," he said.
"No?"
"No," said Sean. "It wasn’t strange."
Makima looked at him for a mont. "You’re eighteen."
"You keep saying that," said Sean.
"Because it keeps being true," said Makima. But there was no real force behind it. It sounded more like sothing she was saying to herself than to him.
"Does it bother you?" said Sean.
She was quiet for a mont. "It should," she said finally. "Logically it should bother significantly."
"But?" said Sean.
She looked at him. Really looked at him. The way she’d been looking at him since yesterday. Like she was trying to reconcile the person sitting across from her with the age attached to that person.
"But you don’t feel eighteen," she said quietly. "You haven’t since the day you moved in. And especially not since..." She stopped.
"Since I paid off two hundred and eighty thousand dollars of debt and walked into Victor Hale’s office," said Sean.
"Yes," said Makima simply. "That."
Sean finished his eggs. Pushed the plate aside. Picked up his own coffee.
The silence between them was comfortable. The kind that only exists when two people have already said sothing important and are both sitting with it.
"Makima," said Sean.
"Yes?"
"What do you actually want? Not what makes sense. Not what’s logical. What do you actually want?"
She looked at him for a long mont.
Outside the morning was getting brighter. The city was waking up fully now. Traffic below. Soone’s radio playing faintly from a neighboring apartnt.
Makima put her coffee cup down slowly.
She stood up from her chair.
She walked around the small table to where Sean was sitting. She stopped in front of him. He had to look up at her from where he sat. She looked down at him with those blue eyes and for once her expression was completely unguarded. No professional composure. No careful distance. Just her.
"I want," she said quietly, "to stop thinking about what makes sense."
Her hand ca up. Her fingers touched his jaw lightly. Careful. Like she was still giving him room to disagree.
"Is that okay?" she said.
Sean reached up and took her hand. Held it gently.
"Yeah," he said. "That’s okay."
Makima looked at him for one more mont. Sothing in her expression finally settled. Like a decision fully made.
She leaned down slowly.
And kissed him again.
This ti it was different from the office. That kiss had been emotion overflowing. This one was deliberate. Chosen. Her hand moved from his jaw to the back of his neck. His hands found her waist and pulled her closer.
She pulled back just slightly. Eyes still closed for a mont. Then she opened them and looked at him from close range.
"Sorry," she said softly. "I was so excited that I didn’t thank you properly last night." A small smile. "I just wanted to do this right."
"You’re doing fine," said Sean.
She laughed quietly. Then she looked toward the unmade bed and back at him.
"Can I stay?" she said. Very simply. No pretense.
Sean stood up slowly from the chair. He was taller than her even without her heels. He looked at her for a mont.
"Yeah," he said. "You can stay."
Makima’s smile was small but completely real. She reached up and adjusted his collar gently. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Then she took his hand and led him toward the bed.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
[Makima — Favorability: 97]
[10x Rebate Threshold: 3 points remaining]
Sean didn’t look at it.
So things were more important than the system.
—-------------
Makima kissed Sean once again.
Her lips parted against his, soft but certain, and her hand slid from the back of his neck up into his hair. Not pulling. Just holding. Like she wanted to feel the texture of it. Like she’d noticed it before and never let herself notice it and now she was giving herself permission.
Sean’s hands were still at her waist. He could feel the warmth of her through the fabric of her blouse. The slight curve where her hip t her ribcage. His thumbs pressed in gently and she made a small sound against his mouth. Barely audible. Involuntary.
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