“What happens if you fly?” he asks, jaw flexing.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I think the cage follows.”
No laugh. No teasing. Just a quiet storm building in his eyes.
He keeps walking beside me, fists now buried in his pockets like he’s holding back the urge to reach for something he shouldn’t want.
“You’re not soft.” His voice is low and rough, like gravel under tires.
“Who said I was?” I counter, chin lifting.
“Everyone who sees your name before theyseeyou.”
I stop breathing for a second because he’s right. Yet no one has ever said it out loud. Not like that. Not with that kind of knowing.
We drift toward the rocks. Jagged silhouettes jutting toward the sky.
The waves crash hard enough to send mist onto our skin.
It’s almost cinematic. Too perfect.Too doomed.
He turns to me, and I turn to him.
The air shifts. Tightens. Draws us close, like magnets.
He looks at me like I’m something he’s not supposed to want. Something forbidden. I like it more than I should.
I look back like I don’t care about rules, like I don’t care about anything but this.
Then his hand brushes mine, and there is a whisper of heat.
I don’t move.
“Do you ever stop thinking?” he asks, voice dropping to something that curls low in my stomach.
“No,” I whisper, my breath catching in my chest.
“Do you want to?” He steps just close enough that I feel his warmth.
I nod, but it comes off shaky.
I’m already undone.
He leans in.
Slow. Careful.
He’s giving me time to run.
I won’t.
I don’t.
Instead, I lean in too. Heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he hears it.
Our lips hover. Close enough that we are a single breath away . . .
“Victoria!”
