I wasn’t… I’m still not. That’s the problem.
I’d told myself it was for proximity. A behavioral test. Observation outside the variable set of the app. I’d keep it simple. Maybe a conversation. A few minutes of quiet confirmation that she was as human as she seemed through the screen.
But then she looked at me. That was all it took to ensnare me… The attitude she gave me was what sold my decision, though.
There was a moment when she tilted her head, staring at my mouth when I spoke, like she was already imagining how I’d sound in the dark. That could have been wishful thinking at the moment, but I don’t think it was…
And I didn’t walk away.
Of course I didn’t.
I still can’t.
Addiction doesn’t always come with warning signs.
Sometimes it walks up to you in a bar, orders something strong and amber-colored, and dares you to smile for the first time in years.
Sometimes it confesses a loneliness no one admits aloud and doesn’t flinch when you don’t try to fix it.
Sometimes… it ends up in your arms, warm and quiet, while you stand at the edge of your own disaster pretending it’s still an experiment.
I move slowly. Carefully. Like if I make too much noise, I’ll wake more than just her…
I’ll wake her doubt.
Or worse.
Mine.
I reach for my coat, watching the way her inky black hair slides off the edge of the white pillow with the slightest turn of her head. Before I leave again, for the last time, I pat my pockets, checking for my phone, then my wallet, then my keys, taking my time even though I know I shouldn’t.
I pause at the foot of the bed, wishing to trace the dip of her waist or run my fingers along her neck and cheek. I imagine that’s how I would wake her up if she were in my bed.
Her leg shifts under the sheets.
And I freeze, caught between her and the door.
She doesn’t wake. Thank god.
I can’t handle her eyes, those piercing gray orbs prying into my deepest regrets. Not tonight… Not when I still haven’t figured out what part of me wants to protect her and what part wants to own her.
Because it isn’t just lust.
This isn’t even curiosity anymore.
It’s gravity.
Inevitability.
I stand there longer than I should, memorizing details I don’t deserve to keep… The soft features of her profile, the faint bruise on her wrist where my thumb pressed too hard. I soak it all in, needing it to fuel me until the guys and I can sort out our shit.
I’m torn between hoping this means something and knowing it doesn’t.
Hope is a fickle thing I shouldn’t bet on.
No. She doesn’t even know who I am. That I’ve been cyber-stalking her…
I leave before I can test my fraying patience any further, gently clicking the door closed and checking to make sure it locks behind me. At least I know she’s safe while she’s here.
