Hazel looks at me unblinking, her mouth in a cute little “O” shape, as if what I’ve just said is earth-shattering.
“…What?” Hazel’s voice shakes ever so slightly, but I can see her slowly process what I just said.
“I’m not repeating myself. Are you in or out?” I’m not one for pleasantries or being overly friendly. A well-manicured brow is raised at me as she gives a hesitant smile. Her hand sticks out for me to shake, and I take it. A jolt of electricity shoots between our fingers as our hands touch, with no logical reason aside from the air around us.
“Let me make one thing clear,” this spitfire shoots off. “I’m only agreeing to this because if you truly think that my best friend is still out there, I have to try. I have to exhaust every avenue.” Hazel’s tone is hard and cold, but there’s a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Something didn’t feel right to me when I got that call, and… and I’ve been reading Leyla’s diary. Things aren’t adding up with how everything ended. Plus, she’s my best friend. I feel like I would know if she was gone, and I don’t feel it.”
Guilt simmers through me, because if this turns out to be nothing, I’ve just given this young girl false hope. But part of me believes there is something not adding up here, too. Emotions are written all over her face, and I take that as my cue to get out of there. I don’t do feelings and emotions, but I give her a simple nod. Her face is unreadable as she looks at me, trying to glean more information.
“I’ll be in touch.” I nod, knowing I need to get out of here quickly so that no one sees us. I look around at the cameras I’ve got Lincoln looping, so if anyone were to check, they would see an empty park. I leave no rock unturned. Hazel starts to say something, but I ignore her. I don’t have time to make friends; she’s just a means to an end for me.
“Zack!” she yells as she races after me. It’s clear she really doesn’t like me, but that’s probably for the best. Her tiny hand wraps around my tattooed wrist, pulling me to a stop. “You can’t tell me you think our best friends might be alive, then just say ‘I’ll be in touch’! For fuck’s sake, dude! I’m not one of your friends, so you’re going to sit down with me and we’re going to talk about this like civilized humans!”
I recoil. Her touch burns me, as if her hands are fire. I don’t do human touch.
My dick twitches at this tiny spitfire, her intensity sending a signal that my mind isn’t ready to process. I internally chastise it, telling it to calm the fuck down, before I see the moment it clicks for her, and my eyes darken. I look at her, taking in the fire in her eyes, and make a split-second decision to drag her toward the bathroom. I shove her against the wall and look down into her eyes. “You talk too much.”
Her chest heaves as she looks into my eyes, and I growl as she throws her arms around me. In a single movement, I pick her up and place her on the sink. “What’re you gonna do about it?” she snaps.
“Oh, sweetheart.” My lips turn up in a devilish smile. Then in a wild joining of lips, tongues, and teeth, our mouths clash with fervor as we kiss like our lives depend on it. Hazel’s fingers tangle in the collar of my shirt, pulling me in tighter, like she’s trying to climb into the moment and forget the world outside.
For a second, everything vanishes—the secrets, the surveillance, the guilt I’ve been shouldering for weeks. All I feelis her mouth, her breath, and the way her body fits perfectly against mine like we were made to collide. The kiss feels like fire, like it’s setting me alight from the inside out, as it reawakens parts of me I long thought gone. Quickly pulling back from her now swollen lips, I place intentional kisses down her jaw and neck, then make my way back up.
But I don’t stop there. I’m abruptly reminded of who we are and what the knowledge and problems I carry with me entail.
I pull back—sharp, sudden. Her lips are parted, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide with adrenaline and something more dangerous. But her expression shifts fast, her jaw tightening as she tries to reel herself back in.
Hazel narrows her eyes. “Don’t you dare pull the wholebrooding lone wolfact after that.”
I stare at her, my breath still ragged. “I wasn’t planning on it. But we can’t do that again.”
“Good,” she snaps again, hopping off the sink and wiping the back of her hand across her mouth like she needs to scrub away what just happened—but she can’t. “Because if you kiss me like that then walk off like it means nothing, Iwillpunch you.”
There’s a beat of silence, filled only by the sound of water dripping somewhere behind us and the thrum of both our breathing.
“Not happening again.” My voice is clipped, serious, and sure.That was purely a moment of weakness.
She runs a hand through her hair, pacing in the tight space, tension still radiating off her like heat waves. Then she stops, spinning to face me.
“I want answers. Not cryptic one-liners. Not vague threats.Answers, Zack. You said Cameron and Leyla might be alive, and you’re pretty sure the detective is hiding something? Start talking, ‘cause I need to know what the hell is happening.”
I hesitate—not because I don’t trust her, but because if I open this door, there’s no closing it again.
“Did you get anything from the detective after Leyla died?” I wasn’t planning on getting into this, but she’s not the aloof girl I thought she was. Hazel Mathis has grit and a bite to match—she might just be the missing piece to figuring out what really went down.
“I did. What does that have to do with anything?” Our chests are still heaving slightly, but our breathing is finally slowing to a normal pace.
“I have a feeling there’s more to this than the detective was letting on, and I have a feeling that Leyla and Cam left us clues. Have you been to their apartment yet?” My lips are looser than they should be. I shouldn’t trust her this quickly—Idon’t—but I need answers. And I will get them at any cost.
“No, not yet. I haven’t been able to work up to it, and honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready.” Hazel’s teeth graze her bottom lip nervously, and my eyes immediately zero in on it before I force myself to look away.
“You down to meet there tomorrow afternoon?” I look to Hazel, my brow quirked in question.
She nods. “Yeah…yeah that works for me. I— I can do that. School knows I’m dealing with a death, so I don’t have to worry about anything.”
My brow remains quirked as I look her over once again. “You’re still in school?” I ask incredulously at the stark reminder of just how young she is. “Wait—how old are you?”
“Twenty-six. Why? How old are you?” The bratty attitude comes back with a vengeance. For some reason, the blood rushes to my head and I glare at her.
