The statement carries no accusation.But I hear the shift underneath it anyway.The awareness.
“I have something Thursday, but I can do Friday.”
Something unreadable flickers through his expression before it smooths away again.He knows he has no right.He’s not in a position to make any demands or claims to me.And he knows objecting will only drive me away.He knows this more completely than anything else.“Friday then.”
And then, he kisses me again.Small this time.It’s brief, but somehow no less dangerous.His hand slides into my hair while his mouth brushes mine once, twice, like he’s trying to show restraint but fails just slightly at it.When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine again.“Go upstairs before I change my mind and follow you.”
Heat curls low in my stomach.“You say that like I’d stop you.”
His eyes darken immediately.And there it is.That tension again.It’s thick and filled with heat that’s loaded just beneath the surface.For one reckless second, I almost ask him upstairs.Almost.Instead, I step back, sliding the bag from his fingers to mine.“Goodnight, Hayden.”
His gaze drags over me one last time, slow enough that my pulse stumbles all over again.“Night, Nessa.”
I make it upstairs somehow.Vinny greets me at the door with loud indignation over the fact I apparently abandoned him for an entire afternoon, but even his dramatic meowing can’t distract me from the way my mouth still tingles.Or from the fact that I’m smiling.Which is honestly becoming a problem.My phone buzzes before I even finish changing into leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.
You forgot your bookmark.
A laugh slips out before I can stop it.
You mean, you stole my bookmark.
Borrowed.
That’s not how theft works.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
You kissed me twice in the bookstore.I think we’re past legal technicalities.
Heat blooms across my cheeks again.Ridiculous.This is entirely ridiculous, but I can’t contain the giggle that escapes as I type again.
You’re very smug for someone who got kicked out of a library at twenty-one.
Worth it.
The reply comes so fast it settles somewhere directly beneath my ribs.And somehow that becomes the rhythm of the next few days.Texts in between meetings.Late-night conversations neither of us intends to stretch as long as they do.Small moments that slowly stop feeling accidental.
By Wednesday night, hearing from him feels dangerously normal.And maybe that’s why Thursday sits so heavy in the back of my mind.Not because I don’t want to see Spencer.Because I know what I’m going there to do.
I sit on my couch late Thursday afternoon with my phone in one hand while Vinny sleeps beside my thigh.I glance down at Hayden’s latest text glowing against the screen.
You still busy tonight?
He’s checking.Checking to see if I’ve changed my mind.Checking to see where we stand.He doesn’t know that I’ve already made up my mind.That I’m only meeting Spencer tonight to explain to him that our arrangement needs to come to end.But I don’t tell this to Hayden.This is something he doesn’t get to control.
I am.But very much looking forward to tomorrow.
He doesn’t text back.I have no idea what he’s thinking, but I’m sure it’s probably all the wrong things.Because somewhere between coffee and bookstores and kisses against dusty shelves, this stopped being harmless.Stopped being something from the past.
I glance toward the clock.6:30.Gild waits downtown beneath dim lights and expensive whiskey and a conversation I should’ve had days ago.One I’m finally ready to have.Because Hayden Sloane walked back into my life and somehow made every other connection feel temporary.
The Gild feels different when I walk in.Or maybe it’s because I know everything will be different after tonight.The elevator doors slide open soundlessly onto the private floor, low music already threading through the air beneath muted conversations drifting from the lounge.Warm amber light glows against dark marble and black velvet, the entire club humming with the same quiet decadence it always does.
Usually, walking in here settles something in me.Tonight, I feel strangely detached from it all.Like I’m already halfway somewhere else.Oliver’s eyes find mine immediately from the bar as I step inside.One dark brow lifts subtly in question, but he says nothing as I step up next to him.A glass of wine slides onto the bar in front of me before I even ask.Control takes many forms.“Thank you.”
“You look nervous.”
I glance toward him as I lift the glass.“I don’t get nervous.”
