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‘Hey, Alex. It’s four thirty. I know your next tour doesn’t start until five. Call me before you start?’

‘Lex, my shift’s finished. I’m sat right now in your writing spot. It’s just gone six thirty-five. I’d really like to talk…’

She frowned. The onslaught of messages could only mean one thing—guilt. He’d probably keep calling until she answered, or worse—he’d call Freddie and get him to find her; the fewer people in the mix, the better.

Watching Naomi in action, it was clear her designs—not to mention her hands—were all over him. How could she compete with Sex On Legs? Or trust him? How do guys say no to someone so obviously ‘up for it’? Especially someone they’d slept with before.

She fanned her burning cheeks. It was foolish to think that Mark wouldn’t be enjoying female company. Just because she wasn’t into hook-ups or dating multiple people didn’t mean that he wasn’t. But sharing Mark with another woman? She couldn’t do it. As much as she fancied him, she couldn’t subject herself to the insecurity of another love triangle, the wounds from the Devin-Taylor entanglement raw again, thanks to his reappearance Friday. She’d cared deeply once, and it had nearly destroyed her. Perhaps it was too soon to get involved with anyone, anyway.

When the loo emptied, she abandoned her stall, blotting a damp paper towel over her forehead. She reapplied her smudged eye makeup.

Get it together, Alex.

She took a final deep breath before exiting the washroom. Maybe Naomi’s epic timing earlier was a good thing. Since accepting the tour guide job, her writing had taken a backseat; all her free time here, devoted to Mark. Well, not any more. Time to wake up. Time to let him go. After all, unlike Devin, Mark was never hers to begin with.

She strode up one level of stairs, then another. On the landing leading to the second floor, she paused to catch her breath. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, blocking out the anticipatory buzz rising from tonight’s theatregoers on the ground floor. A shadow stretched down the stairwell from above, blanketing her head, then her shoulders.

“Hello, stranger. I hoped I’d find you here.” Mark grinned sheepishly as he hopped down the steps towards her.

His hair looked particularly hot tonight. Silky. Thick. Fluffy. What would it be like to grab fistfuls of it?

Alex swallowed and shook her head, erasing the image. Her hands trembled. She tucked them under crossed arms, hiding the evidence. “Sorry for leaving in such a rush earlier.” Her eyes flitted to his chest. “I…forgot. My supervisor, she wanted to see me before my last tour.”

Mark cleared his throat, his tone playing along. “Is everything okay now? Did you get it sorted?” His lips stretched into an impish smirk.

“I did, thanks.” Alex glanced at his puppy dog eyes and then quickly diverted her gaze to the safety of the floor. She couldn’t look at his eyes, lips, or that hair or else she’d stray. “Look, Mark, I didn’t say everything that I wanted to say at lunch.” She feared he could hear her heart pounding through her dress.

His face lit up. “Neither did I. Sorry for the interruption. I was going to a—”

Alex cut him off. “On Friday night, seeing Devin made me all nostalgic. You were there. I was drunk and…the kiss was a mistake; it didn’t mean anything.”

He shook his head, a concerned frown darkening his face. “…I don’t think you really believe that.”

“Putting you in an awkward situation like that wasn’t fair to you. Or Naomi ….”

Mark stepped closer, his reassuring hands reaching for hers. “Lex, you’ve got this all wrong—”

“No, I don’t.” Alex kept her arms crossed and backed up, the heel of her shoe scraping against the cement wall.

“I have a ton of writing to do, so I can’t have another night like last Friday. I keep getting sidetracked…It’s got to stop. Writing’s my priority—”

Buoyant voices bent around the stairwell’s corner, drowning out Alex’s words. Three, four—six theatre patrons emerged into view, their light-hearted conversation drying up at the sight of Alex sloped against the wall and Mark, his lips only inches away from hers, resting his hand above her head.

The interlopers increased their pace, disappearing up the stairs.

Mark closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

She could breathe him in. So close. Close enough to kiss.

Alex’s voice cracked. “Best to forget about the other night so we can both…move on.” Her stomach churned like the Gulf of Mexico in a hurricane.

Mark swept his hair off his forehead. “Alex, I fully support your writing, you know that…don’t do this. Let’s go somewhere private to talk—”

Her eyes stung as his words fell to the floor, rejected. She raised her voice. “I said we need to move on. Can we drop it. Please?”

Mark rubbed his hands over his face. When they fell, he shifted backwards with a nod, but his dull eyes and slumped shoulders contradicted that assent. He scuffed the floor with his boot. “Sure. If that’s what you really want.”

“Please don’t say anything to Freddie or Lucy. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”