Stolen time. That’s what this little outing was, Freya realized, as it began nearing its natural end. She’d managed to steal some extra time with Kyle between training sessions and Force connections in the night, and now that it was almost over, it felt… unbearable. Like she’d only prolonged the inevitable when she chased after him and asked him to come with her in the first place. One way or another, she would always have to watch him go.
Watching his carefully guarded face while he looked back at the book, Freya bit the inside of her lip, a half-compromise with herself as she tried not to be so obvious. Hadn’t she wanted to escape from this untenable situation only a few minutes ago, to go back to the relative safety of her own company? Strange how that urge seemed so distant now. Her priorities weren’t so much shifting as they were slipping away the closer the time came for their parting.
She would have to get better, she decided, at compartmentalizing her thoughts – much better than she already was. For her own protection, yes, and Gabe and Matt and Lydia’s too, but also to keep her secrets from spoiling moments like this one. She could have just enjoyed walking through the bookstore with Kyle, instead of imagining that her every word and action was fraught with all the things she couldn’t say. There was no room for intrusive reflections leaking in and making her second guess herself, if their time was as stolen as it felt. She could do that. She could keep him separate from everything else. The alternative simply wasn’t an option.
Her resolve set in one direction, but in another it was still wavering, preparing for one of his quick, wordless exits with a kind of melancholy dread. But... none came. Instead, he lingered, asking a surprising but welcome question. Her eyes brightened as she realized their feelings in this moment were much closer together than they were apart.
He didn’t want to leave, either.
“Home.” Her answer came almost too easily, and a rueful smile came with it. Rueful but glad. The very first rule she’d imposed on their arrangement was that he was never allowed to come back to her flat after that first horrible surprise visit. Sort of ridiculous now, when he was there almost every night, in spirit if not in body. But she was only bending her own rule, not breaking it. Not yet. He could walk her home, but she wouldn’t invite him up – for half a dozen reasons she didn't want to name, but if she had to pick one, today, right now? Mostly so she wasn't the one watching the other leave. That might make his departure more bearable, for once.
“It’s not far,” she added, glancing through the door of the bookshop. “And the Jamaican place in my building sometimes has some patties leftover from the dinner rush, if you’re hungry before you go back to…” Trailing off, she closed her mouth and reset so the question was no longer hanging and didn’t need to be answered. “Before you go back.”