Chapter 3 #3
My name, caught in her throat like she knows she should push me back and hates that she hasn’t.
My thumb drags once more over her lip before I pull away.
“That,” I murmur. “That’s what I’d rather hear.”
Her eyes stay locked on mine, sharper now, but her fingers tighten around the coffee cup.
“My name,” I say. “Not his.”
For a second, I think about pressing closer. About seeing if she’d bite. About finding out if that sharp little mouth is as brave with my hand on it.
Instead, I pull back.
Barely smart enough to know touching her again right now is a bad fucking idea.
I drag a cigarette from my pocket and put it between my lips, lighting it mostly so my hands have something to do besides reach for her again.
Alice watches the flame catch, then looks back at me.
“You’re insane,” she says.
I take a slow drag and let the smoke roll out between us.
“Probably.” My lips pull into a smirk.
“That wasn’t a compliment,” she says.
“I didn’t take it as one.”
“And yet, you’re smiling.”
I drag the cigarette from my mouth and let the smoke roll out slow, buying myself a second before I say something worse than I should.
Because she’s cute when she thinks she’s hiding from me.
Cute when she stands there with rain on her lashes and that sharp little mouth trying to convince both of us she isn’t curious. Like I can’t see it sitting right there in her face. Like I don’t know she’s wondering what happens if she lets this go too far.
What I’d do if she stopped pushing just long enough for me to get my hands on her and what it would feel like to be wanted by me, cornered and marked by me in ways she couldn’t talk herself out of later.
My smile gets worse.
“I’m smiling because you’re a bad liar.”
Her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I flick ash off the end of the cigarette and step closer again, slow enough to let her decide if she wants to back up.
But surprise, surprise, she doesn’t.
“You act like you’re annoyed,” I say, cigarette held low at my side so the smoke curls between us. “Yet you keep standing here. You act like I’m too much, but you keep looking at me like you want to know exactly how much worse I can get.”
Her fingers tighten around the coffee cup. “You’re very confident.”
“No.” My gaze drops to her mouth, then lifts again. “I’m paying attention.”
Her mouth twitches like she hates that she almost smiles.
Fuck, I like that too much.
I take another drag, mostly to keep my hand busy, then lower the cigarette and reach for her with the other. Alice goes still as I catch a damp strand of hair stuck to her cheek. She doesn’t move away when I brush it back, my fingers dragging lightly along her skin before I tuck it behind her ear.
Careful.
Almost gentle.
Which somehow feels worse.
I lean in, not close enough to kiss her, just close enough to breathe her in.
Rain first, cold on her coat. Coffee, dark and bitter, warming her hands.
Under that, incense smoke, camera film, old paper, and that sharp chemical bite from the darkroom clinging to her like she lives too long in red light and locked rooms.
My jaw tightens.
Because all I can think about is Johnny.
Johnny seeing her. Johnny wanting to chase because he likes anything that runs and getting bored only after he proves he can ruin it. Ruin her.
And the thought lands ugly in my head before I can stop it.
Making Alice mine might be the only way to keep her mine.
Not almost mine. Not interesting. Not some girl Johnny can circle because he likes the look on my face when he gets too close.
Really mine. Undeniably mine.
The kind of mine even Johnny would look at and know there’s no game left to steal because I already fucking won.
Alice’s throat moves beneath all that silver, and my eyes track it before I force myself to take another slow drag and step back just enough to keep from doing something stupid.
She should leave.
She knows she should.
Instead, she holds my stare for one more second, mouth curved like she wants to say something sharp but can’t decide if sharp is enough anymore.
Then she steps back into the rain and opens her umbrella.
“Goodbye, Jagger.”
“Not goodbye.”
She pauses. “What?”
“Goodbye means you’re done.”
Her mouth curves, small and dangerous. “And you think I’m not?”
I step to the edge of the walkway, cigarette burning between my fingers as rain hits my boots. “I know you’re not.”
For once, she doesn’t argue.
She just looks at me through the rain, and there’s the truth of it sitting between us, dark and sharp and impossible to pretend away.
She likes the danger.
She likes standing close enough to feel it breathe.
Then she turns and walks away, boots splashing through the puddles, black umbrella swallowing her piece by piece until she disappears around the corner of the arts building.
I stay there, soaked at the edges and smiling like a fucking idiot.
Because now I know this isn’t only in my head.
Alice Aster likes looking at things she should run from.
And if it’s danger she wants?
I’ll give her something worth being afraid of.