Nothing. She is busy with writing and I find myself getting… distracted.
She types, and I wait for the reply. It doesn’t take long.
Nora
Dick-stracted? Royce, I swear if you’ve broke the contract.
I roll my eyes.
Me
I haven’t broken the fucking contract. I just need some space. My mind is chaotic and having her close to me is proving… difficult.
I send it and don’t give her a chance to reply.
Me
Put it this way, if you do not get us separate rooms, I can promise you that the contract will be broken.
I hit send.
Me
More than once.
Locking my phone, I feel it buzz a few times, but I don’t reply.
“Ready?” Dane asks as I toss my phone and towel in the locker.
“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter and follow him into the gym.
She will think something is wrong, but the truth is, it’s complete the opposite. I don’t trust myself around her. I’m playing with fire, and I know I’m close to burning to ash. So, I’m stopping it before it’s too late.
But of course, she won’t see it like that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Athena
I spendsome time picking my outfit, settling on a white bardot maxi dress. Soft frills dance around the hem, brushing against my sandal covered feet. My hair is pulled into a low pony, makeup soft, and gold jewellery to finish.
I’m looking forward to my evening with Royce. It feels like forever since we have spent actual time together. I feel like we have both put distance between us in some way. It needed to happen; as much as I enjoy his company, I know it will end in disaster.
We are moths to flames. One of us will end up burned.
Spraying my perfumeagainst my pulse point, I grab my clutch and walk out into the main area where Royce waits for me. He’s scrolling on his phone, but it’s like he gets the sense to look up, and that’s when his ice blues catch mine. His mouth slowly drops as he sweeps his gaze over me.
“Wow,” he whispers.
I tilt my head as I blush, allowing myself to look at him. He is dressed in wide leg jeans and an oversized white tee. So simple. So Royce. So handsome.
“Athena, you look…” He stumbles over his words.
I laugh softly as I step closer to him. He pushes from the sofa, closing the gap between us as his eyes volley back and forth from mine. The urge to push onto my toes, run my hand around the back of his head and grab the nape of his neck, is strong. I want to feel his soft hair through my fingers as our lips meet.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He inhales, his eyes creasing slightly at the corner, his jaw clenching. “Want to go?” His voice is tight, as if the words are painful.
