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David’s reply came quicker than Mark had hoped and slower than Rachel wanted.
“Your place works. Looking forward to it.” Rachel read it aloud, her grin widening until she nearly squealed. “See? He’s perfect. Confident, polite. This is going to be fun.”
Mark’s stomach twisted. “I don’t want him here.”
Rachel tilted her head at him as though he were a sulky child. “Safer here than some bar. Private. Controlled. You’ll see.”
She was humming not long after, darting from room to room, fluffing pillows and wiping invisible spots from the counter. A candle flickered on the coffee table. Two wine glasses gleamed beside the bottle she had picked out that afternoon. She tried on two outfits before settling on a silk blouse tucked into a skirt that showed just enough thigh. When she spritzed perfume on her neck, Mark recognized it, a scent she had not worn in months.
Mark sat stiffly on the couch, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles ached. He tugged at his shirt collar and felt sweat already dampening his back.
When the doorbell rang, Rachel nearly skipped to answer it. She opened the door with a smile so bright it startled Mark.
“David. Come in.”
David stepped in, tall and assured, salt and pepper hair catching the warm light. He shook Mark’s hand firmly, his grip strong, his palm dry and warm. Mark’s own hand felt damp and small in comparison.
“Nice place you two have here,” David said, his eyes flicking back to Rachel. “Very warm. Suits you.” Rachel flushed under the compliment, brushing her hair back with a shy laugh. She led him into the living room, her heels clicking lightly against the hardwood.
They settled on the couch with wine. David took the spot beside Rachel, his arm resting casually along the back. Mark lowered himself into the chair opposite, his drink already trembling slightly in his hand.
Conversation flowed easily, David’s voice low and steady. He spoke about travel, about work, about music, and Rachel leaned forward, her legs crossing and uncrossing as she laughed too brightly at his stories. Every so often her hand grazed his arm, as if pulled there by instinct.
Mark swallowed his bourbon too quickly, the burn doing nothing to calm him. His stomach churned as he watched her eyes sparkle in ways he had not seen in years. Then David rested his hand on Rachel’s thigh, just above her knee, fingers drawing idle lines over the fabric of her skirt. Rachel stilled for a second, then smiled and laid her hand on top of his, a soft press of permission.
Mark’s throat went dry.
A pause lingered in the conversation, the air taut with something unspoken. Rachel glanced at Mark, her lips twitching with mischief, then leaned in quickly and kissed David. Just a brush of lips, a schoolgirl’s dare. She giggled nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear, her face glowing with delight.
Mark’s chest seized.
David’s eyes stayed steady on her. He leaned closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His voice dropped almost to a murmur. “You’re beautiful.”
Rachel’s breath hitched. She leaned in again, and this time the kiss was slower, longer, deliberate. David’s hand slid higher along her thigh. Her own hand rose to his chest, feeling the solid weight of him beneath his shirt. She sank into the kiss, eyes closed, lips parting, a soft sound escaping her throat.
Mark sat frozen, unable to look away, his stomach twisted in knots even as a hard pulse pressed against the fabric of his pants.
When Rachel finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her breath quickened. She laughed softly, almost giddy, then turned back to her wine as though nothing had changed.
David finished his glass, stood, and shook Mark’s hand firmly before heading for the door. “Thank you both. I had a wonderful evening.”
Rachel closed the door behind him and leaned against it, smiling like a teenager after her first date. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, her whole body humming with energy.
“See,” she said, her voice playful, eyes glowing. “Harmless.”
Mark sank into the couch, silent. Rachel poured herself another glass of wine, humming again, cheeks still flushed. She looked alive. Mark felt hollow, every part of him aware that harmless was no longer something he believed.
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