Chapter 17
484words
It felt like minutes later when a familiar voice cut through the fog.
"Lyra."
I lifted my head to find Felix standing beside me, concern and something else—anger?—tightening his features. He looked out of place in his tuxedo amid the bar's casual atmosphere.
"Felix," I slurred. "Fancy meeting you here."
"I'm taking you home," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Don't want to go home," I protested. "Empty there. Lonely."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Then I'll take you to my place. But we're leaving. Now."
He settled my tab, thanked the bartender, and helped me to my feet. I leaned heavily against him as he guided me outside to his waiting car.
"Why are you here?" I asked as he helped me into the passenger seat.
"Because the bartender called me," Felix replied, his voice tight with controlled emotion. "Because you're too drunk to get yourself home safely."
"No," I shook my head, immediately regretting the motion as nausea swept through me. "Why are you helping me at all? With Alexander, with the foundation... with everything?"
Felix was silent as he started the car and pulled into traffic. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.
"Is that why you're in this state? Because of Alexander?"
The question held layers of meaning I was too intoxicated to fully parse. Was he asking if I still had feelings for Alexander? If seeing him tonight had affected me?
"Not the way you think," I managed.
"And how do I think, Lyra?" His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
"You think I care about him." I turned to look at Felix's profile, sharp and serious in the passing streetlights. "I don't. I hate him."
"Hate is still caring," Felix observed. "Just on the opposite end of the spectrum."
I had no response to that uncomfortable truth. We drove in silence for several minutes, the city lights blurring past the windows.
"You didn't answer my question," I said finally. "Why are you helping me?"
Felix glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to the road. "Because something about you... resonates with me. I can't explain it. I just know that what you're doing—whatever it is—matters."
His words hung between us, too close to a truth neither of us was ready to acknowledge. I closed my eyes, suddenly exhausted.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "For tonight. For the bartender calling you. For... everything."
"Don't apologize," Felix said softly. "Just rest. We'll talk when you're sober."
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Felix was gently shaking me awake. We were parked in an underground garage beneath a sleek high-rise.
"Where are we?" I asked groggily.
"My place," Felix replied. "You said you didn't want to go home."
