“Alright. Matthew’s reply was brief, his disinterest in Stella’s earlier chat with Farris apparent.
Stella noticed the solid hold of his hand, suggesting he might be upset.
They rode home in silence.
Once home, Matthew perched on the sofa, silently sifting through papers with the precision of a robot.
On the opposite end, Stella worked on her sketch, her laptop balanced on her knees.
Now and then, she peeked at Matthew. He was the picture of concentration, just a touch quieter than usual, but it was hard to tell if anything was wrong.
She couldn’t guess what he was thinking.
Turning her attention back to her laptop, a sudden burst of creativity hit her. She scooted over to Matthew, laptop in arms, and rested her chin on his shoulder.
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“Could you look at my sketch?”
Matthew glanced at the screen and nodded, setting his papers aside.
He wrapped an arm around Stella, his hand gently guiding hers as she used the mouse, his voice a soft rumble.
“Sure, let me see.”
Wrapped in his embrace, Stella felt his breath on her cheek.
Her face warmed, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze, keeping her eyes on the screen.
“Any thoughts are welcome.”
Matthew appeared not to notice her discomfort, scrutinizing the design, guiding the mouse here and there.
Eventually, he asked, “Planning a blue dress for Alina?”
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Stella forced herself to concentrate, ignoring his imposing figure.
“Yes.” She pointed at the screen.
“The flowing hem plays off the theater’s round stage at the awards. It’s meant to be striking up close, memorable for the crowd.”
“Maybe add some folds at the waist for a better effect,” he suggested, navigating the screen.
“I’ll work on it,” she agreed.
As she started to get up, Matthew’s hand softly kept her in place.
“Stay a bit longer.”
He settled close, whispering near her ear, his breath teasing her skin.