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Invisible String - A Paul Lahote Fanfiction

Hello! I know everyone is waiting for part four of Flame of Autumn, I promise it's coming! Between this never ending pandemic & being a slave to my 9-5, I haven't had a lot of time or inspiration to write.

Also, part four really sets the scene for the rest of FOA, so I've had to do some serious plot planning and character development before finishing it. In the mean time, why don't you guys enjoy this Paul fanfic! Anyone interested in a part two? And if you enjoy it, perhaps consider donating to help the Quileute's move to higher ground https://mthg.org/

This fanfiction is inspired by the song 'Invisible String' by Taylor Swift.

Nerves flutter in my stomach as I begin playing, the chords flying from my fingers. Languid notes ring out, and I let my eyes fall closed as the melody consumes me. A hush falls across the coffee house as I play, and even the baristas pause their steaming and brewing to listen. I can’t help but smile, and I’m suddenly very sure of my song choice. It's deceptively slow and simple, but enchanting all the same. That familiar bubble of thrumming energy comes over me as I sing, and all that exists to me is the piano and the richness of my own voice.

“Time

curious time

Gave me no compasses

gave me no signs.”

As I’m belting out my favorite lyric, I glance up from the ivory keys for the first time and meet a pair of eyes across the crowd. The eye contact sends an electric jolt through me, and I inhale sharply. His eyes are a deep, rich brown color that's entirely unique to him. Looking into that dark gaze feels like the most natural thing in the world, and the most strange. The weight of it alone has my heart stuttering in my chest, my sure fingers shaking on my instrument, and I can’t seem to look away.

But neither can he.

Something inside my chest tugs towards him with such force that it's a struggle to stay seated, and all the breath rushes from my lungs. I forget the world around me until all that exists is this stranger. It's like he’s a glowing beacon in the middle of a midnight ocean, guiding me to shore.

This moment feels fleeting and miraculous, like glimpsing the aurora borealis in the middle of Death Valley. Something tells me to break his gaze would be a sacrilege, a waste of a once in a lifetime occurrence.

Somehow, I continue through the song without missing a beat. My hands slide numbly along the keys, and it's all I can do to keep my breathing controlled and steady enough to sing.

A very distant part of my mind whispers for me to look away, since serenading a stranger isn’t something most people find socially acceptable.

I find I can’t make myself do it.

My eyes travel over his ruggedly handsome face, blatantly devouring him. I'd say he’s almost pretty, but there’s something too masculine about the set of his jaw, the raw power in his stiff posture. His skin is a warm brown, his hair dark as a starless night.

His arms are crossed over his broad chest as he leans against the back wall of the coffee shop. The stranger's brow furrows in confusion as he continues observing me, his lips parting slightly. I feel his gaze traverse my body like a physical touch, and I shiver, even with the stage lights warming my skin. He stands with a small group of friends, and one of them seems to notice our staring contest. He nudges my stranger, speculative eyes darting between us. I look away quickly and force myself to focus on my instrument, heat flaring in my cheeks.

“A string that pulled me out

of all the wrong arms

And straight into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

chains around my demons

wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you. ”

The song winds down, and my voice goes soft and light for the last line.

“And isn’t it just so pretty to think

All along there was some invisible string

tying you to me?”

My voice hovers in the air for a few blissful, incandescent moments, like a spell of serenity hovering over the crowd. Then, the silence is broken by familiar hollering from the back corner.

I feel my face warm as my friends, Cooper and Savanna, crow and cheer obnoxiously from our usual table. The small audience rewards me with a hearty round of applause as I gather my music and exit the small stage. I shoot them what I hope is a confident smile.

As I make my way through the spindly, mismatched tables and caffeinated crowd, I force myself to keep my eyes down.

He’s looking at me again. Maybe he never stopped looking.

I can’t tell you how I know this, but I do. I feel him under my skin, settling in like he belongs there.

“You were so good!”

Savanna squeals, squeezing me in a soft hug before passing me to Coop, who crushes me into his chest until the air gasps from my lungs.

“You couldn’t even tell you've been sick. You sounded great, dude.”

Cooper whispers in my ear, and I let out a sigh of relief. Earlier tonight, I’d worried I’d get up on stage and sound like a dog with its vocal cords clipped after being ill less than a week ago.

I whisper a thanks back to him, and the three of us fall into easy conversation as we take our seats. I sip from the tea awaiting me in a green mug, and half-listen to my friends bicker over the outcome of some show they’ve been obsessed with. All the while, my eyes keep moving closer and closer to that alluring figure in the periphery of my vision, like I'm the sun orbiting earth.

Just as the Sun always does, I lose the battle against his gravity.

Attempting subtlety, I scan the room casually before coming to his side of the coffee house. I inhale sharply when I find him much closer to me than before. He and his friends, a group of three men, sit only a few tables away now.

His eyes are locked on me, the intensity within their depths forcing every thought from my head that doesn’t involve him.

The stranger claims my gaze with his, almost hungrily, like he’s been waiting for me to look up. He smiles then, his full lips distracting in their softness. The smugness in that grin practically screams “Couldn’t resist any longer, could you?”.

A coy half smile breaks across my face in response to his, and his grin only widens. That grin does indecent things to me. I feel myself flush as every muscle in my lower belly tightens, and I inhale sharply.

“Thea?”

I startle at the sound of Cooper’s voice, and I look back to my friends to see both of them smirking knowingly at me.

“Did you hear anything we just said, or were you too engrossed in eye-fucking that guy?”

Savanna says loudly, her voice probably carrying easily over to my stranger’s table. Savanna is my best friend, but she doesn’t possess a filter or volume control. It has caused Cooper and I infinite embarrassment in the past. Heat floods my face as his confident smile becomes a full out smirk, and I know he heard her.

" Sav, can you keep your voice down? They didn’t hear you over in Russia.”

Savanna cringes and whispers an apology as I resist the urge to melt into a puddle and disappear. Suddenly, the grain of the wooden table has become fascinating as I slouch down in my plush armchair.

“I was asking how your interview with that place in London went?” Cooper repeats himself, an amused grin on his face.

I puff out a sigh and shrug my shoulders, face still warm. I can’t help but fidget under the attention I still feel locked on me. The emerald silk top, black corduroys, and boots that I loved this morning suddenly feel too constricting. The sensation of my hair against my overly sensitive skin is driving me crazy.

“I don’t know, I feel like it went well? But when the interviewer described my position more in depth, I wasn’t sold. As amazing as it would be to live in London, I don’t think I’m going to take it.”

I play with my hair as I speak, trying to hide from him behind its length. When I realize what I’m doing, I push my hair out of my face and raise my chin. I don’t hide from anyone.

Savanna and Cooper exchange a poorly concealed look of excitement before looking quickly away.

“Oh no! I’m sorry, I know you were excited about that interview.”

Savanna croons, reaching over to pat my arm empathetically, her blue eyes glittering with obvious pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s really too bad. I hear London’s great this time of year.”

Cooper tries to sound disappointed for me, but he’s never been able to keep his true thoughts from being written all over his face. His lips twitch with the strain of it, and he can't even meet my eyes.

I roll my eyes, huffing out an exasperated laugh.

“Wow, you guys can’t even pretend to be upset huh?”

My friends exchange another look before dissolving into snorts and giggles, and I feel my lips twitch.

“I’m sorry, but we weren’t exactly jumping for joy at the thought of you moving to another continent.”

Cooper explains, tilting his glass up to drain the last of his iced latte, causing curls to fall into his eyes.

“And I know you only wanted to move that far away because of He Who Must Not Be Named.”

Savanna stage whispers, raising a blonde brow at me accusingly.

I scowl at her, crossing my arms and leaning back in my arm chair. She knows this topic of conversation is off limits, but she insists I talk out my “feelings” with her. I’m sure I will eventually, but I am far from ready to talk about my latest ex, Alexandru. But this is how Sav is, she’s like a bloodhound once they’ve caught a scent. I know she’s going to prod and pick at this wound, not realizing that it hurts more than helps me.

“That’s not true, Savanna. You know I’ve always wanted to live abroad at some point in my life.”

I insist, trying to keep my voice low. I don’t need the handsome stranger sitting a few tables over to overhear about my pathetic dating life.

Savanna gives me a look that I know means she doesn’t buy a single word I’m saying. Before either of us can open our mouths to argue further, Cooper interjects.

“I think what Sav is trying to say is that we love you, and we’re glad you’re staying.”

He gives Savanna a silencing look, before purposefully asking how her wedding planning is going.

Savanna is instantly distracted, and she launches into a detailed description of all the planning she’s done for her and Natalie's big day. As soon as their attention leaves me, I feel myself relaxing into my seat. If I’m being completely honest with myself, merely the mention of Alexandru still stings. Before him, I’d never been cheated on and that betrayal cut me deeply.

Savanna may be half right when it comes to me wanting to leave Seattle because of him. It's true that I have always wanted to travel, but I would be lying if I said the breakup didn’t make the immediate prospect more appealing.

I go to take a comforting gulp of tea, but I’m met with an empty cup. Sighing, I push out of my chair noisily and rise to my feet.

“I’m gonna grab a refill. Do you guys want anything?”

They both hand me their mugs for refills, and Cooper requests a slice of lemon bread. I nod and head over to the long line of patrons waiting to order. I pretend to be perusing the menu, as if I don’t already have it memorized, while I peek at my stranger out of the corner of my eye. He and his friends seem to be having a tense conversation. His companions are all leaning towards him and speaking in hushed, urgent voices while he stares stonily at the table in front of him. I furrow my brow, perplexed by their intensity.

He says something to them, and they seem to relax. The man sitting beside him, who appears to be a few years older, slaps him on the back in a brotherly gesture. I reach the front of the line and order our refills from the barista. She takes our mugs from me, and I walk over to the bar to wait for them to be finished. Meanwhile, I can’t help but continue staring at him. I’m mesmerized when he licks the coffee off of his lips, and by the way his dark eyes shine as he finally cracks a smile at something his friends say.

I watch as he looks towards my table, and he frowns when he doesn’t find me seated there. He sits up straighter, tension filling his body immediately. Those incredible eyes flit around the crowded coffee shop, trying to find me. I can’t help the small smirk that curls the edges of my lips up. I want him to find me. I want him to see me watching him, noticing him. I lean against the counter, waiting.

Finally, his eyes find mine again. My smile only grows at the obvious relief in them. He’d thought I’d left, and he was upset. A strange, fluttering feeling fills my gut.

Intense, caliginous eyes root me to the spot. I feel his phantom touch over every inch of my exposed skin, a full body flush following in its wake, causing my breathing to deepen. A distant part of my mind whispers at me to control myself, that I shouldn’t be reacting this way to a stranger.

But that would be akin to the oceans waves halting their crashing, the sun ceasing its ascent into the sky every dawn. My reaction to him is visceral, so deeply seated I have no idea where it's coming from. And I don’t want it to stop. Seemingly in slow motion, he rises to his feet. My breath catches in my throat when I realize how truly massive he is. He’s easily around six three, muscular, and so broad shouldered I’m sure I could just disappear into him. He makes his way through the crowd towards me, and my pulse triples.

That unfamiliar tugging sensation returns, and it only intensifies as he grows closer. There’s a graceful confidence in his stride, one that speaks of a certain maturity. It makes me wonder if that confidence would translate… elsewhere.

After what feels like an age, he’s standing before me. I feel waves of delicious heat radiating off of him, and he smells amazing. Masculine and clean, like the woods in winter. I expect him to say something, to introduce himself. Instead, he only stares. He takes me in from boots to scalp, seeming to revel in my closeness.

Finally, without speaking, he holds out a strip of paper. I blink at it, and he smirks down at me until I take it. Our fingers brush, my heart jolting in my chest at the contact. His skin is burning hot, and it ignites embers inside my belly. Our gazes clash once more, as if we're both shocked by the intensity of our reactions to each other. His pupils nearly blend into the darkness of his iris, but I swear I see them dilate. Abruptly, he turns on his heel and ambles out into the cold night. His companions follow behind him without direction, shooting me curious sidelong glances. I just stand there, my heart galloping inside my chest and my jaw on the floor.

Right before the glass door closes behind him, he looks back at me long enough to shoot me a wink that turns my insides molten. For long moments, I can only stare after his retreating form. I look down at the crumpled scrap of paper.

Written in a messy, masculine scrawl is his phone number and a name.

Paul Lahote.

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