I almost laugh.
Trust isn’t the word. I nod anyway because agreeing is easier than admitting I’m not here for him. I’m here to outrun a ghost.
“You’re beautiful.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
Something underneath that gentleness makes my stomach tight.
A little devil appearing on my shoulder tilting its head, promising relief. “At least you’ll feel something.”
A strap slides off my shoulder. My arms cross my stomach before I can stop them as he nudges them aside with patiencethat isn’t softness. The other strap follows. My sparkly dress gathers at my feet like a rebirth, shedding a new skin where moonlight cools every inch it leaves bare.
His mouth hovers over mine, and his hands find my waist. I turn my face a fraction, pretending to breathe him in, pretending it’s shyness and not distance I crave.
My mind attempts to quiet, to enjoy this moment, to let myself go and to stop protecting the version of myself that fractured the moment life sabotaged the illusion of permanence.
A version standing on a ledge, ready to lean forward just to end the wanting towantsomeone I’ll never be able to see again.
The rasp of his zipper somewhere far away. My own breath, shallow and fierce, as if I’m watching myself through glass.
“It will drown out his name,”the devil on my shoulder whispers.
My palms rest on Tyler’s chest, but they don’t pull him closer like the hunger I had once craved.
Eleven
Sara
The morning smells like sea air and wet pavement as I’m strolling out on Rue des Amoureux after mom begged me to walk our dogs. Cheyenne is a Jack Russel with more attitude than a chick in a girl band, and Daisy has claimed me as her person and can’t stand anyone else.
I get it, girl, I get it.
As I walk, listening to “The Fever” by Foreign Figures in my AirPods, my phone vibrates in the pocket of my Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, with a pair of tight black leggings I threw on when I got home.
Tyler:When can I see you again?
I thumb the phone off and let the screen go black over my reflection. The idea of answering feels like chewing glass.
I was craving a distraction, but Tyler’s touch only magnified the gaping absence of Joe.
I miss him so much that breathing burns my lungs.
The dogs drag me past the first sharp bend, and I love this quiet part of my village. They pull at their leashes, eager, tails swishing like they’ve got somewhere urgent to be. We’re rounding the corner when a blur shoots past us with white fur and black ears flapping, paws skidding toward the street. A puppy!
“Hey!” My voice cracks. I’m running before I can think, heart hammering if it runs through traffic. He’s seconds away from the road when I dive, fishing one of my dogs’ treats from my pocket.
“Come here, baby.” It freezes, sniffing, and I scoop it into my arms as footsteps running towards us like thunder.
Liam.
He fills the passage like a threat, all shoulders and scowl, tattoos dark against his forearms, a cigarette smoldering between two blunt fingers. His hair is wet as if he had just taken a shower, and I can smell his fresh ash and wood scent. He looks past me and the dogs, then down at the puppy cradled in my arms, then back at me. His defined chest rising under a black T-shirt, his eyes flickering icy blue.
He steps closer, ignoring the growl Daisy makes in the back of her throat.
“Do you make it a habit to collect innocents?” His question is absurd, just like he is.
I meet his smoldering gaze head-on. “This creature actually yours?”
He leans closer into my personal space, causing my breath to hitch. The heat emanating from him makes my pulse race. Hestretches out his hand, long, powerful fingers reaching out. His fingertips graze against mine as he takes the squirming puppy from me. The almost indiscernible touch sends a shockwave of mortifying electricity.
