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His fingers hover beside my waist.

He doesn’t touch me.

I looked down at the space between his hand and my body.

Then back at the mask.

“What?”

Nothing.

He waited.

Nothing.

What was he waiting for?

I look back at him, before deciding to make the decision.

I closed the last inch between us.

His hand settled against my waist.

Heat rushed through me.

Oh.

His gloved fingers tightened just enough to turn me around.

My back hit his chest.

The mirror stared right in front of us, the red making the scene much more intoxicating.

Me.

Him.

His hand at my waist.

The mask above my shoulder.

I should’ve been scared.

Well, I was.

Very much so.

But fear wasn’t the reason I couldn’t breathe anymore.

I stared at him through the mirror.

My hair was a mess, the white blonde strands all over the place as my mouth was slightly open as I try to even my breathing.

“Is this what you wanted?”

I don’t know where this brazen, head strong act came from, but there was something about him that made me let go.

It was weird given this man was a stranger that I’ve encountered twice in my life now.