Chapter 12
Remi
The hearth is cold, but still I beg the flame;
I burn my palms to feel its fleeting breath.
I bow to hunger, whispering its name,
And lay my head upon the lap of death.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time, but nothing had posted yet. It had only been five hours since the interview, but I couldn’t stop going over everything we’d said.
After Clara’s invasive questions, we’d found a middle ground between baseball and some romance.
She’d tried to push the boundaries a bit, but both of us had been pretty united in redirecting.
I was sure she’d find a way to stitch things together in a way that made us look as bad as she could manage, but she wouldn’t have much to manipulate.
Still, I worried. Had I fucked it up? Made him look bad? Pissed off Clara enough to make her edit the video to hell? I wouldn’t be surprised if she posted some wild propaganda piece to twist Amir into a soulless scoundrel.
If anyone should be vilified, it was me.
Looking over at Amir in the kitchen, I decided that if things went south, I’d make sure he didn’t get dragged through the mud. Maybe I couldn’t stop it, but I’d at least try.
He was a genuinely good person from everything I’d seen. A little uptight and arguably snooty at times, but good. I had no doubt that he’d do anything to make sure his family was taken care of, and that was something this world was in short supply of.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
He glanced at me, spatula in hand. All he really needed was an apron and less clothes. “No, I think it’s fine.”
Tipping my head back on the couch, I groaned. “Gods, you’re boring.”
I shouted in alarm when something cold struck me in the face. When I was on my feet, I scrubbed the water out of my eyes and held my palm up in case he decided to attack again. He was still holding the sprayer as if he was prepared to do just that.
“If you spray me again, I’ll bring a knife to a water fight, and I won’t apologize for it,” I warned.
“Now who’s boring?”
With a disgruntled sound, I headed into the kitchen. He was wary as I approached, which made me more interested in getting under his skin.
“Let’s tone down the abuse,” I suggested as I put my hand over his on the sprayer. After a second, he released it. I returned it to the sink and gave him an innocent smile. Even though he clearly didn’t trust me, he turned to flip the quesadillas in the pan.
I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, then filled it with ice water.
My mind went back to that interview again, but not the actual substance of it.
Like when we were on that couch, I touched his back and trailed my fingers up his spine.
He reacted the same as before, leaning into my touch despite the fact that nobody was around to see it.
While I watched him cook, I continued the motion and drained my water. My fingers played at the collar of his shirt and touched the skin on the back of his neck. I saw his grip tighten on the spatula, but he didn’t stop me.
Since I was what people like him would call a monster, I quickly tugged the back of his shirt to pull it away from his neck, then I dumped the ice down it. He yelped, and the utensil flew out of his grasp. It clattered onto the floor as he danced around trying to get the cubes out of his shirt.
“Seriously, Remi?”
I set the glass down, prepared to run. Reaching around to his back, he shook out his shirt. It was impossible not to laugh as ice cubes fell to the floor one by one.
“You were too hot,” I said with a shrug. “Had to cool you off.”
Once all the ice was out, he advanced on me. I jogged backward, keeping my eyes locked on him so I could determine his next move. It was hard to read what was on his face, but I didn’t think he felt that delicious lust anymore.
I made it into my room and tried to slam the door in his face, but he got his hands on it before I could. With both of us pushing, I had to come to the horrible realization that he might be stronger than me. He was a professional athlete, after all, and I’d clearly underestimated him.
With a swear, I darted backward. He barreled through the doorway, barely needing a second to orient himself.
Slowly, I moved backward until he reached the edge of the bed, then I jumped onto the mattress and leapt to the other side, calling on Freyja to give me flight with that cloak of hers.
I managed to spin right past Amir, though it was a damn close call.
He was hot on my heels, and since the apartment wasn’t exactly the best place for a high-speed chase, I had to hurtle over the couch.
Forgetting exactly how fast he was on his feet, I ended up running right into him when I tried to go around the left side.
We collided, and he grabbed my arms. When I backpedaled, my heel hit the edge of the couch.
I went tumbling down and dragged him to the floor with me.
Amir’s laugh rang through the apartment when he ended up on top of me. “Looks like you lose.”
“Oh, is this what losing feels like?”
Our eyes met, the amusement bright in his, though it was quickly fading.
I put a hand on his chest to push him back, but he lowered himself instead.
There was a moment of shock that paralyzed me when he pressed his mouth against mine, but then I curled my fingers inward to hold him close rather than push him away.
Nine days. That was how long it took for us to reach this point. It was somewhat emblematic if you asked me.
I hadn’t expected anything like our previous connection to come back, but I also hadn’t necessarily believed nothing would happen. Oli wanted to bet on it, and technically he’d won, but I probably wouldn’t tell him that.
It didn’t matter anyway. Regardless of what happened, Amir wouldn’t take this further than something casual.
We weren’t compatible in that way. Not with the lives we lived.
Not with the people we were at our cores.
In a different universe, maybe, but I was doomed to a world much different than the one he walked in.
And that was fine. Cool and casual was the best way for me to exist. Any time I veered from that, I ended up with bruises, most of them where nobody could ever find them.
Slowly, I moved my hands lower, then slipped my fingers into the band of his basketball shorts. When I went for his dick, he grabbed onto my wrist and pinned my arm to the rug.
He pulled back only slightly. “What are you doing?”
“Me? You’re the one who kissed me.”
“Yeah, kissed. That doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you.”
“That’s . . . confusing.”
He lifted one brow. “It’s confusing that kissing doesn’t equal sex?”
“No, your signals are confusing.”
As his lips found mine again, his fingers slid from my wrist to my hand. His touch made my skin tingle like there was electricity beneath it. Where he’d been frenzied the first time we kissed, he was gentle now. Exploring, maybe.
I didn’t know what he was doing, actually. With his weight on me and my thoughts going in a million directions, my heart started to race. The excitement from a moment ago faded, giving way to a heaviness that sat deep in my stomach.
I turned to break the kiss. “Get off of me.”
When he didn’t move right away, my vision became unfocused. The sky outside shifted to a wash of blue and white, and somewhere in that haze, I heard it—a gentle murmur that made my stomach turn. It was followed by a phantom touch on my cheek.
“Remi—”
“Get off me now.” I didn’t give him a chance to comply. I flipped him onto his back and was on my feet in seconds. He said my name again, but I ignored him.
By the time I reached my bathroom, I could feel the buzz all over my body.
I’d left the mirror uncovered, wanting to face myself the past couple of days, and that was a mistake.
As soon as I saw my eyes and the paleness that had come over my face, I felt a wave of nausea.
I shut the door, casting the room in total darkness, and turned the shower on to its coldest setting before I peeled off my clothes.
When I stepped in, a shiver wracked my body, and my muscles felt tight.
I let the water flow down my face and into my mouth.
I scrubbed at my cheek with my fingers, then dug them in until my nails left indents that throbbed.
Once some of the tension had eased, I turned around and pressed my forehead against the wall, then covered my head with both arms to create a bubble where only I existed. This me, not any other version.
I slowed my breaths, focusing on the present.
Every breath is proof you still want to fight. This world isn’t done with you yet, and neither am I. So, breathe. Just breathe.
When my body stopped shivering from the cold, I shut the water off. Without bothering to flip on the light, I grabbed my towel from the bar and wrapped it around myself while my hair still dripped. I opened the door to my room, then paused when I saw a plate on the bed.
The guy wasn’t one for boundaries. It might’ve bothered me if I thought he had a malicious bone in his body.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I picked up the plate. Beneath it, there was a napkin. My curiosity was piqued when I noticed he’d written something on it:
Roses are red,
Tortillas are round.
I burnt the first batch,
But this one’s kinda sound.
I’m no poet, just a hitter,
And I really hate to fight.
So if you aren’t too bitter,
Maybe go ahead and take a bite.
A laugh escaped me so suddenly that I covered my mouth. Even though I didn’t have an appetite, I pulled on a pair of sweats, then grabbed the plate and left the room.
Amir was on the balcony, lounging back in one of the chaises while he took a bite of his quesadilla. I walked outside, and he jumped a little. He barely glanced at me, which made me wonder if I was expected to explain. We were plenty old enough to handle it like adults, in my opinion.
I sat in the chair beside him and held up the napkin. “How long did this take you?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Like, three attempts.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered.”