On the lounge cushion couch, Silas sat resting, deeply engrossed in a Victorian-era book. Yet, his mind drifted backward, pulling him away from the pages and back to a memory in the bedroom with Catelyn.
She had been resting against the headboard, dressed in a blue crop top and brown denim shorts, the duvet pooled around their feet while he scrolled through his phone.
"I'm traveling to Turkey, and that's the place we've decided on going, Silas," she said, glancing over at him.
Silas, wearing a casual shirt and pants, barely looked up. "Okay."
She looked away, slightly miffed.
"Actually, I found another place we should head to instead," he said, instantly regaining her attention as her face snapped back toward him. "We're heading to Europe before going to Turkey."
Catelyn arched her brows, her expression turning stubborn. "I don't want to go to Europe right now, Silas."
Dropping his phone onto the bed, he raised an eyebrow. "I agreed to go to Turkey. You should agree to mine."
She frowned and sat fully upright. "Silas, I don't like Europe," she groaned.
"And I don't want to go to Turkey," he replied, his tone entirely serious.
"Silas—" Scooping up a pillow, she raised it, ready to strike.
Unfazed, Silas picked his phone back up and went back to his messages. "If that's how it is, I guess we aren't traveling at all."
Catelyn's tone dropped, a mixture of disappointment and genuine hurt coloring her voice, as she loved nothing more than traveling with him. "Okay. That's fine."
Her brows twitched with annoyance. Brandishing the pillow, she swung at his arm. "Take it back. We're going to Turkey together, right?" Her clear black eyes fixed on him challengingly.
"Nope."
She smacked him right in the face.
Silas grinned. Seeing that infuriating smile, she swung again. He quickly grabbed his own pillow to shield himself from her pillow-wielding wrath.
"Keep hitting me, and I'll do the same," he warned.
"I challenge you," she declared, her tone hostile and dead serious, clearly thinking he wouldn't dare.
"Gladly." Wielding his pillow, he made a motion to swipe at her.
"Silas!" she yelped in surprise.
"You almost hit me, you little meanie," she said, he chuckled.
Outraged that he was laughing at her, she lunged forward, but he easily dodged her antics, ducking low across the bed.
"You sly fox," she panted, pursuing him relentlessly. He gently swatted at her with his pillow, which she nimbly dodged.
"I'm really angry with you. You make me so pissed off," she huffed, her furrowed brows and fierce black eyes telegraphing that she was ready for round two.
"Take this," she snapped, but this time, Silas caught her wrist, halting the pillow mid-air.
As a smile played on his lips, he dropped his pillow entirely and pulled her into a close embrace. Catelyn struggled against him, trying to free her arm. "Let me go, Silas!" she demanded.
"Why are you so mad at me?" he asked softly, looking directly into her eyes.
Her gaze held both lingering annoyance and a flicker of affection. "You won't agree to my plans, and it makes me want to hit you more." She tried to wriggle out of his hold, but his grip remained firm yet gentle.
"Catelyn, I'm sorry. I was only joking," he said, letting his fingers brush softly against her skin as his hold loosened. "I didn't mean it."
She narrowed her eyes, searching his face. "You're not serious?"
"No, I'm not. We will go wherever you want. Is that fine?"
"It isn't fine, because you already disagreed in the first place," she grumbled, pulling away to lean back against the headboard.
"But I was only teasing, Caty."
"Really?" She crossed her arms, looking at him intently.
"Yes, really," Silas answered, realizing with a start that she was actually furious. He hadn't expected her to take it quite this hard.
"Are you still angry?" he asked softly.
Her expression turned neutral. Without another word, she reached for her phone on the bedside table. "I am angry, and leave me alone, Silas," she said grudgingly, staring at her screen.
"Wow," he murmured, his tone low and warm. "I didn't know I made you this angry. What should I do now that my Caty is mad?"
She ignored him, furiously tapping away on her phone, though he could see the cute, stubborn pout on her face.
"You look entirely too cute when you're mad, you know," he continued, resting his chin on his hand. Still, she gave him a sharp glare before returning to her screen, though a tiny, betrayed twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her away.
Silas smiled, his brown eyes tracing her delicate feminine features—her fair, creamy skin, onyx-black eyes, and her medium, plum-shaped lips. Looking at her, his heart filled with a profound sense of peace and happiness. She was his, and he was hopelessly in love with her.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly.
Catelyn didn't answer, acting entirely engrossed in her phone.
Undeterred, Silas shifted closer, resting one knee on the mattress while she continued typing, paying him no mind. For a moment, as she remained lost in her screen, he leaned in and simply pecked her cheek.
Catelyn blinked, looking into his warm, tender brown eyes, feeling her resistance begin to melt away.
"I don't feel satisfied with just that," he whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips. "I want to kiss your lips."
Her heart fluttered with sudden desire. Her lips parted slightly, and before she could speak, he leaned all the way in.
His lips pressed softly against hers. The sudden heat stirred a deep longing within her, and she found herself reciprocating, her hands instinctively moving as his fingers tangled into the nape of her hair. It was a passionate, breathless kiss. He pulled back for a fraction of a second, offering her room to breathe, only to claim her mouth again in a hot, lingering embrace that sent a pleasant shiver straight to her core.
When he finally broke away, a broad, triumphant smile lit up his face. "I got my kiss."
Catelyn's cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson as she stared back at him. With a final affectionate peck to her cheek, Silas hopped off the bed and headed toward the bathroom.
Presently, sitting on the lounge cushion couch, Silas lowered the Victorian book into his lap and let out a deep, heavy sigh. He forced his mind away from the memory. Dwelling on the past only brought an ache to his chest, leaving him restless, hollow, and deeply, achingly alone now that they were apart.