SELENE
Istir awake, disoriented at first, but then everything comes rushing back. My hair is still damp from the shower we all took earlier. The memories alone have me needing to press my thighs together. I’m usually the one in control but something about Julian and Cole working together like that just makes me want to give in completely.
To my right, I see Julian lying above the covers, a towel draped across his midsection. He looks so different when he’s asleep—less put together, his dirty blonde hair messy, and his body less tense. He looks at peace.
There’s something innocent about people when they’re passed out, as if they’ve shed the weight of the world, temporarily free from their thoughts.
How did we fall asleep? That part is hazy. They brought me into the bed, massaged my back and neck, provided amazing aftercare, and then…nothing.
Turning my head to the left, I see Cole. His brown hair is also disheveled in the most beautiful way, as he lies on his stomach, half his body under the covers. Even in this relaxed position, his back muscles are coiled tightly. That’s when I notice a tattoo inthe middle of his back, a complex code or design, too intricate to decipher in the dim light.
I shouldn’t feel this way—I know that. I don’t really know these men, but deep inside my chest, there’s a hollowness, like something is missing.
The absence of our third unsettles me.
Damon didn’t seem comfortable, not from the start. But we kept going, losing ourselves to the game, letting it consume us. Now, lying here, I can’t shake the thought—did he leave because of me? Because of what happened between all of us tonight?
I could wake Julian and Cole, draw them back into the chaos with a kiss or a touch. Another round of fun feels like the logical choice, considering the promises we made for this night.
But I don’t.
Instead, I slip off the bed quietly, gather my clothes, and slide on my shoes, careful not to disturb them. The door closes behind me with a soft click, and I’m alone in the hallway. It’s unnervingly quiet, the stillness pressing in as I make my way toward the stairwell exit.
Something tells me he’s not here, not anywhere inside this building. My pulse quickens as I descend, driven by a strange mix of urgency and concern I don’t fully understand. Why do I care so much? Why can’t I just let him go? Maybe he doesn’t want me.
No, it’s not that. There is something else at play here.
Someone else he’s thinking about.
This man, this stranger, whose name I barely know and whose words to me have been fleeting at best, has me running off after him at night.
God, I’ve got abandonment issues. Maybe we can bond over it.
Outside, the winter air is cold against my skin, and the darkness is blinding as I look for Damon. He’s dressed in allblack, with a black mask, so finding him might be next to impossible.
My stomach tingles when I spot the rusted entrance to the old amusement park behind the hotel. The gates creak in the wind, and the faint outline of decaying rides is barely visible in the distance. There is a string of dim Christmas lights hanging from the fence surrounding the park. Ironic since the thing hasn’t been in use for decades.
Halfway to the entrance, I see a tall shadow walk across the park. My footsteps crunch loudly against the snow as I speed up, not wanting to lose him in this dilapidated, creepy place.
I find Damon sitting on a bench across from the carousel, its colors faded along with whatever memories are attached here. He’s hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, as he stares out into the emptiness.
He doesn’t look over when I sit beside him. His mask resting beside him, and he appears lost in thought.
Neither one of us says a word for a long time.
“Why did you come looking for me?” Damon finally speaks, his voice barely a whisper.
“I honestly don’t know.”
“I’m not like them. I mean, I am…in a way. But not like?—”
“I know,” I say softly.
He lifts his head slightly, his gaze still distant as he finally turns to face me. The flicker of vulnerability in his eyes catches me off guard.
“I thought if I could just let it go, or try, that it would be easier.”
I smile. “It’s never easy to let go of a love like that.”
