Kieran
Her name lights up the screen like a beacon calling me home, pulling me to the shore after being lost at sea for too long to count.
Flagged User: Eris.
Activity: Typing.
Silas is mid-sentence, talking about security redundancies and how Daniel’s access points are getting sloppier. Jace says something sharp and almost amused about over-engineering the problem.
I lose interest in their conversation as soon as I open the admin thread on the HimLock app. Eris is typing, but I don’t wait to see what she’s saying, too eager to be casual.
She’s had a long day, and we all thought she was asleep. We should have known better. She doesn’t really do the things we predict.
I think that’s what draws up to her.
I stand up, enthralled by her quick wit and determined to take this banter to her face-to-face so I can watch her expression in real time and not through a monitor.
“Nope,” Jace pops off sarcastically. “We don’t need you to be part of this conversation.”
“You good?” Silas asks, his brow raised.
“Yeah,” I reply, already moving toward the hall. “Keep going. Like Jace said, you don’t need me for this conversation.”
Silas tips his head in understanding, and Jace snorts but doesn’t argue.
I don’t need to explain. We’re each just as fucked as the other when it comes to Eris… And none of us care.
I walk away as if this interaction is the only thing that matters now.
Because it is.
My thumbs fly across my phone screen as I pad quietly down the hall.
Locke:
I want you to ask the real question you keep hiding away from.
I imagine her feeling sassy just based on the speed of her reply.
Eris:
Which is…?
My mouth twitches despite myself. That’s her… Always turning the question back onto us, testing the angle, looking for the pressure points that make lesser men cave and turn away.
I don’t dodge it.
Locke:
Do I want you?
Do we really want you?
I stop outside her door and wait for her reply. The loft is quiet here, the air conditioning humming overhead. The polished concrete floor is cool under my bare feet. Light spills faintly from beneath her door, showing no movement.
But the dots rolling across my screen tell me another story.
She’s on the other side of this door.
Thinking about us.
Talking to me.
Eris:
Do you?
The question sits on my screen, small and destabilizing, but I grin for a fraction of a second.
Do I want you?
Of course, I fucking want her. I’ve spent the last few days trying to figure her out, and the last few weeks stalking her like a true pervert.
But I don’t answer her with words this time.
I tuck my phone into my pocket and turn the knob to her door, stopping on the threshold to wait her out. I won’t come in without permission.
Eris is on the bed, her bare legs stretching for days, drawing my attention up to see her wearing Silas’s shirt. It belongs to her now; he won’t take it from her. None of us would…
I have no doubt she knew it was me on the other side of the HimLock conversation simply based on her expression. Those mirror-gray eyes are dark with something she’s decided she wants.
Eris stands without a word, the corner of her lips tipping up in a knowing smile.
She turns away from me and doesn’t look back.
Her instructions are simple, their meaning explicit.
It’s a quiet invitation.
Careful, but still testing.
She walks into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind her.
And I follow her like a lost puppy seeking her warmth.
I step inside the dark room, flicking the light switch and sliding the dimmer down to a moodier level.
“You already knew it was me,” I say, my voice low, steady. “Didn’t you?”
I’m already past the point of pretending this is casual, but her heady gaze meets my eyes in the mirror, lips curved just enough to tell me she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“I suspected,” she answers.
It would be smart to stop, to get to know her better and build the type of relationship we want with her.
But being inside her is a greater euphoria than I’ve ever felt.
“You’re playing with fire.”
It’s as much a warning for her as it is for me.
I’m going to burn alive happily, so it no longer matters.
Her smile widens, sharp and careless of my cautionary comment.
“Fire doesn’t scare me. I hold the matches and the gasoline.”
I close the distance, preparing for a heavenly death.
My hand slides up the back of her thigh, tracing the line where skin meets cotton. She inhales sharply, the sound catching as if she wasn’t expecting her body to give her away so easily.
She doesn’t pull away.
Neither do I.
And I’m going to show her this isn’t a test I take lightly. This is me choosing her again.
Today.
Tomorrow.
And every day after that.