“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I love you,” she says simply. “And I know that look in your eye. You’re not done with him.”
I stare at the wall, at nothing, at the storm inside my own chest.
Not done with him?
I was just getting started.
I knew it was reckless. I should just leave it as a kiss in the dark with a stranger I’d only just met—a sweet memory that burned my fucking soul—but I couldn’t. I didn’t understand why he had to stop. What kind of man starts a fire and then puts it out?
Who does that?
Who looks at you like you’re the only thing worth ruining, kisses you like it’s a promise, and then walks away like it never happened?
I press my fists into the couch cushions, trying to breathe around the ache in my chest.
It wasn’t just a kiss.
I know that.
He knows that.
I felt it. The second his mouth hit mine, something snapped inside me. Something old and quiet and caged. And now it’s awake. Alive. Pacing just beneath my skin like it wants to be fed again.
God, I’m losing my mind.
Over a man I don’t even know.
But that’s the thing.
I do know.
I know how he breathes when he’s fighting himself.
I know how he tastes when he lets go, just for a second.
I know how his voice sounds when he says good girl like it’s a sacred fucking prayer.
And now I know what it feels like to miss someone who was never mine to begin with.
“Earth to Cassandra,” Lola says, nudging my shin.
I blink. “What?”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“That thing where you stare into space like you’re plotting a murder. And considering the context, I can only assume the victim is my brother.”
I snort. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She smirks, but it fades quickly. “Just… be careful, okay?”
I nod, but it’s a lie.
I won’t be careful.
