Chapter 13

“She let the silence fray,
and I smiled,
because even silence bleeds
when I touch it right.“

Rome, Italy

Aylin’s POV

He was already here, waiting for me.

He was leaning against his car with that quiet confidence that made the night seem like it bent to him, familiar with the shape of him, the stillness, the way he watched, how he owned every second without needing to move.

He wore a dark shirt, midnight blue, nearly black, his sleeves pushed up, the top few buttons left undone just enough to draw the eye where it shouldn’t linger.

His hair was a little messy, too perfect to be unintentional, and his face—God, his face, that sharp jaw, and storm eyes that held the ruin of a thousand unsaid things.

Nathan wasn’t pretty or just handsome, he was striking, utterly consuming and devastating, cruel in his perfection.

His eyes were already focused on the hotel’s entrance as I stepped out, and when his gaze found mine, I forgot how to breathe. He didn’t look me up and down, no, he didn’t need to. Nathan’s eyes found mine and held, like he was trying to memorize what I looked like before he did something unforgivable.

Like he’d already done it a hundred times in his messy head.

The hem of my dress fluttered softly around my thighs; it was cream silk, off-shoulder, and cinched at the bodice. It was elegant and deceptively simple. The weather wasn’t too hot, but my skin felt too warm beneath soft fabric, flushed where his eyes touched, even though they hadn’t moved.

The strappy sandals laced up my calves made faint whispers of sound with each step forward and closer to him. I felt the early night breeze tangle in my hair, lifting the strands from my shoulders, and letting them brush against my collarbone as I paused to a stop in front of him.

You see, the thing is, I knew I was beautiful.

I also knew that I wasn’t anything extraordinary, not unforgettable, just noticeable. I wasn’t one of those girls who needed convincing. I knew I was pretty. I saw it in the way men looked at me, all the lingering stares and the compliments wrapped in hunger. I felt it, heard it, in the way heads turned, and voices shifted when I entered a room.

Everyone always looked. Everyone…but him. The one I spent most of my girlhood running after. The first person who taught me that being seen wasn’t the same as being chosen.

So, my insecurities didn’t live on the surface; they lived deep, buried beneath skin I’d polished into perfection. I’d learned early that beauty wasn’t about belief; it was mostly a performance, one I mastered young.

My mother taught me that, with her words and her quiet obsession with appearances. I learned from her how to glow, how to walk like nothing touched me, how to keep my skin soft, my smile softer, my hair brushed out and perfectly imperfect. Pretty, but not threatening. Polished, not loud. A girl men would pause for but not fear.

“Beauty is power,” she used to say, and I believed her.

I listened to her, and I kept the balance.

But when Nathan looked at me?

Balance didn’t exist. There was no stage, no mirror, no script.

I didn’t feel pretty.

I felt possessed.

Like he wanted to peel me open and find the secrets in my marrow, like I wasn’t something to admire, but something to devour.

He made me feel like I was both the altar and sacrifice, like he wanted to ruin me just to learn how to piece me back together, like I was the most beautiful woman alive…not because I looked it, but because, in his eyes, there was no one else, like I was the only thing that had ever caught his attention.

Like if he blinked, I’d disappear.

He pushed off the car with that quiet kind of grace only he could pull off. He crossed the distance between us in a few slow steps, stopping just close enough for me to feel the heat of him under the cool Roman air.

“Hey,” I murmured, my voice softer than I meant it to be. I hated how breathless it sounded.

One corner of his mouth tugged upward, that almost-smile he sometimes wore. His eyes were low-lidded, unreadable, but I caught the way his chest rose, like he’d just remembered how to breathe or was just breathing all of me in, “Hey,” He replied back, his head tilted slightly, “You know,” he said, “Rome has survived fire, empire, and war, but I don’t think it’s ready to survive you.”

You see, a normal person would say I looked pretty, but this is how this man compliments me.

I arched a brow at his dramatics, my lips twitching despite myself. He caught the flicker of a smile and let his own widen in response. His hand lifted slightly, a fraction, like he might touch me, or pull me in, or just…do something.

But he hesitated, he stopped himself, and pulled it back. Then, without a word, he turned and opened the car door for me.

Interesting.

Was he really honoring my whole no-touch boundary until I made a decision? How very noble of him.

How very not Nathan…well, this could be fun.

I stepped in, the hem of my dress rose higher than it should’ve, settling somewhere indecent as I slid into my seat. I made no effort to fix it. The bodice had shifted too, dipping just enough to make it clear I wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. Still, I didn’t tug it up.

The kind of thrill this man dragged out of me over the past months wasn’t gentle; it was reckless, electric, addictive. Nathan was always testing my composure, always unraveling me and my sanity. Tonight, I wanted to return the favor.

I wanted to see how long he could wear that restraint, how long he could pretend to behave.

He closed the door for me and walked around the front of the car. He got in without a word, but I caught the way his jaw clenched, just a bit. His hands landed on the wheel, tighter than usual, like it was the only thing that could keep him in one place.

I shifted again in my seat, feigning discomfort, knowing full well what I was doing. A breathy little sigh parted my lips as I reached for the seatbelt, pulled it, fumbled intentionally, letting it snap back against the side with a quiet click.

I turned my head with a low huff, “Uhm, can you help me?” I said, my voice innocent, angelic even, “I can’t get it out.”

He turned to me and for a moment, he didn’t move, like he was regretting every decision that led him here.

Then he leaned over, closer, closer than close.

His shoulder brushed against my chest, the heat of his body swallowing the narrow space between us. His scent wrapped around me, so intense, so dark, expensive, and impossibly him.

He reached past me and pulled. The belt dragged slowly over my body, across my shoulder, down between my breasts, then across my lap.

He didn’t say a single word, but I saw everything in the way his jaw tightened. In the way his throat bobbed when his gaze accidentally, or not so accidentally, dipped to where the dress strained.

His fingers caught the buckle, brushing over my hip as he clicked it into place.

Our faces were inches apart still, his eyes focused solely on my own. If I leaned forward even slightly, my mouth would touch his.

I didn’t, but I wanted him to know that I could.

I turned my head, just slightly. My lips were right by his ear, faintly brushing the skin when I whispered, “Thanks.”

He didn’t smile, didn’t smirk, didn’t growl something filthy like he usually would, didn’t say what I expected.

He just stared at me.

His eyes flicked to my mouth, then back to my eyes, like he was holding something back, like he hated that he was holding something back.

“I hate that word.” He mumbled, his voice low and gruff. I rolled my eyes at his silliness. Give it to Nathan to hate a word as innocent and simple as thank you. Never mind you, this silly man also hates the grey heart emoji, too, for some reason, which makes me want to print it on a pillow and gift it to him.

He pulled away, his composure intact, calm, silent, and controlled, but his hands on the wheel were clenched white.

I bit down my smile and settled into the seat, legs crossed, devil on my shoulder wide awake. Let’s see how long that crooked halo stays on.

By the time we arrived, the city had melted into soothing shades of gold. When the car stopped, the valet was quick to open my door with a quiet, “Buonasera,” and a practiced smile.

I stepped out and flashed him a soft smile, unsure of which words to use, but before I could dwell on it, Nathan was beside me, his warm palm settling on the small of my back. He didn’t squeeze, he didn’t trail his fingers provocatively like he’d usually do. He just held me there before he gently guided me forward.

My eyes flicked ahead, taking in the beauty of the restaurant, of the limestone steps, the hanging vines, and the iron lanterns burning low. We kept walking forward as the sound of clinking glasses and soft violin filtered out from the open-air terrace above.

A woman in a black dress stepped forward to greet us, her tone warm and kind as she spoke in Italian, but I didn’t understand a single word. Before I could try to piece it together, Nathan replied, the words curled off his tongue with soft consonants and velvet vowels, so precise it made my skin prickle.

I turned to look at him in absolute awe.

He wasn’t even showing off, and that’s what made it worse. He spoke more, and whatever he said made the woman smile and nod, already leading us through.

I stared at him and blinked, astonished, “That’s so—”

“Hot?” he offered with a wink.

God, I hated that he was right. It was very hot, indeed.

She guided us past the velvet rope and up a narrow set of stone steps till we reached the terrace. It wasn’t private per se, but felt more exclusive, only seven or eight tables were scattered across, filled with well-dressed couples clinking wine glasses and murmuring over candlelight.

The woman led us to the table with the best view, tucked just at the edge of the terrace, overlooking the city.

Nathan, being all gentlemanly for once, pulled the chair out for me.

I lowered myself into the seat, “Thank—” I couldn’t even finish my word when he shot me a glare.

I huffed out, “What do you want me to say then?” I grumbled as he took the seat across from me.

He raised his eyebrow, “I don’t know, show me your gratitude in other ways,” He commented.

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he smiled, satisfied with his messy self.

I shook my head and looked down at the menu, reading through words and meals I couldn’t make much sense of. My lips curled in annoyance, and I looked up at him, “I don’t understand a thing.”

“Want me to order for you?” he asked, a little too smoothly.

I sighed and nodded my head before backing into my seat. I playfully narrowed my eyes, “Okay, but since when do you ask for permission before doing something?”

He glared again, “Since today.”

“Cool,” I mumbled.

He ignored my teasing tone as the waiter approached us. He ordered our food rather fast, and we were left alone, soft candlelight flickering between us.

I leaned forward, pressing my elbows over the table as I gazed at him, “So, this is our first official date, huh?” I asked, still not sure how we got here.

He nodded, his eyes solely focused on mine, “We could have more if you’d just say yes to my proposition.”

My smile widened. Not going to lie, I am loving that I’m making him wait. “We’ll see about that.”

He muttered something under his breath and looked away, probably cursing me, his patience slipping. I bit my lower lip to stop myself from smiling; it was hard not to when he looked so damn adorable when annoyed.

With his head turned away like that, the golden rays of the fading sun and the candlelight flickered softly across his skin, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, blurring the line of his mouth, and dulling the sharp glint in his eyes into something almost…warm.

Something gentle, and so very human.

God, with him like this and the breathtaking scenery behind him, he looked like a portrait I wanted to capture and store. It felt too rare, too precious, and I wanted to keep it.

I reached for my phone, rather quietly, before he’d turn and catch me. I lifted it and took the perfect picture.

The shutter clicked, and he turned immediately, his eyes narrowing, “What did you just do?”

I smiled, staring down at the picture in pure satisfaction before I turned the phone around for him to look at it. “It looked too good to be wasted,” I said before I tilted it back toward myself, “You know, it fits my profile’s aesthetics,” I added, gazing at the picture, noticing how it only caught his side, that you couldn’t tell it was him unless you knew him the way I did.

“Can I post it?” I asked.

He stared at me in utter confusion, “You want to post…me?”

I nodded, and his confusion only grew, like I was speaking a language he didn’t understand, “You do love posting a lot on that thing,” He murmured.

I shrugged as I zoomed in on the picture, checking all the angles, “It’s a hobby.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes when I remembered, “And it must be a hobby of yours to like every picture I’ve ever posted,” I added, recalling the one thousand three notification I’d woken up to the other day of him liking every post of mine, he even went all the way back to when I was still in highschool, “Stalker.”

His eyebrow raised, and he crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s called research.”

“Yeah, right, research,” I scoffed as I clicked on my screen, “Creep.”

“Although I won’t deny that I did save the picture of little you with your cute high-school uniform,” His teasing tone had me lifting my head, my eyes widening, and I fake-gasped, “See, a total creep,” I said, in accusation.

He threw me a wink and didn’t comment on that as the waiter approached us with a bottle of wine and poured each a glass of red before quietly slipping away.

Nathan lifted his glass and took a sip, then licked his lips before setting it down. His eyes refocused on mine. “So, since we are doing things your way, what are we supposed to be talking about now?” He asked, unpleased with all of this. Well, I knew what he preferred, how he’d rather have me in one closed room, cornered, where he can have his way with me, than out here, exposed and in the open, “Marriage and kids and all that nauseating stuff?”

I chuckled lowly and sipped on my wine, “Not that fast, it’s only our first date, you don’t want me running for the hills now, do you?”

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting, “Well, I do love it when you run.” His voice was low, and he almost kept going. I felt it sit on his tongue, but he bit it down, still somehow trying to be good for tonight.

I traced the rim of my glass with one fingertip, watching him.

“But since you brought it up…” I paused, studying his face, just curious, god, so curious about him. When he knew too much about me, not everything, just more than he should, I knew so very little about him; it wasn’t fair. “Do you think you’ll ever get married?”

He didn’t answer right away, so I kept going. “I just…can’t picture it. You, marriage, and the whole happy-ever-after.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t fit you.”

He smiled and leaned back in his chair, eyes still on mine, “You see, that’s why I like you, you are smart,” He said, “Whatever makes people believe in things like that…you know, marriage and forever and whatnot, I think I was born without it,” His eyebrow raised, “It’s more like a missing gene.”

I kept watching him, trying to detect any change, any flicker in his jaw, a twitch near his brow, a crack, but no, he was calm, so indifferent, like all of this held no weight. “I don’t think of tomorrow much. I don’t build futures, Aylin,” he added.

I felt my heart tighten just a bit, and I asked, “Then what is it that you do?”

He shrugged, his lips curling at the corner like he was in on a joke no one else would ever get. “I survive the present. That’s it.”

He lifted his glass again, his tone much more casual now, “Besides,” he said, tipping it slightly toward me, “can you really imagine me asking anyone’s father for permission?”

I smiled and shook my head, “No, never.”

He grinned into his glass, took another sip, and for a second, I thought of stopping there, but my curiosity never knew how to sit still.

“What about kids?” I asked.

He paused, he just blinked, slowly, like the idea had never occurred to him before, like it belonged in a different world than his.

He shook his head, “I don’t even trust myself with plants.”

My eyebrow raised, “That’s not an answer.”

He didn’t respond right away, as the waiter came and placed our food, breaking the moment, but his eyes never broke contact with mine. When the man walked away, Nathan didn’t hesitate and answered, “Having a little cute monster with my devilish good looks doesn’t sound entirely terrible.”

I bit back my smile at his words. Nathan’s eyes drifted away from mine, and he set his knife into the steak. His voice dropped, “But no.” He added, slowly cutting his meat, “I don’t want to pass this down.”

I kept looking at him and tilted my head, “What, your charm and wit?”

He smiled again, but this time it didn’t touch his eyes. His gaze stayed on his plate. “Yeah,” he said, almost softly. “Exactly.”

It felt, in a way, that I’ve struck a nerve.

So, I didn’t press further and didn’t prod. I just looked down at my food and played along with the silence.

“What about you?” Nathan’s voice broke through after a couple of seconds. I glanced up, and his gaze was already waiting for mine.

“Do you want that?”

“Marriage or kids?” I asked.

“Both?” He asked, “Either?” He smiled, “Neither?”

I shrugged, “I am not sure,” I said, pressing the napkin lightly to my lips, buying time, “But I think I’d want to get married at some point, in the very far future, of course, because it does sound scary, but I think…being alone is scarier,” I reflected my inner thoughts with honest words.

I shook my head, “And I don’t want to end up alone.”

Nathan’s gaze was assessing my expression, as if trying to read more than what I was saying, “But kids?” I continued, softer now. “I don’t know.”

I glanced down at my wine glass, fingers tracing the stem.

“I don’t really think I have that motherly instinct everyone talks about. I don’t dream about it. I don’t melt when I see babies or feel that…warmth they speak of.” I paused, then shrugged again. “I used to think I wanted kids, but not because I wanted them, more because of—”

Nathan’s eyebrow raised when I paused, catching myself back from saying it, so he did it on my behalf, “Because of that wanker?”

I couldn’t hold my laugh at that little simple word; it felt so out of place coming from him, but it was adorable.

Nathan looked even more annoyed, “What are you laughing at?”

“I like it when you say that word,” I admitted. It did sound so cute coming out of his mouth, especially with his accent.

“Which word?”

“Wanker,” I repeated, mimicking his accent with the worst fake British impression imaginable.

He stared at me for a beat, then his frown cracked, and a low chuckle escaped his chest. He looked away, shaking his head, then back at me, and his eyes softened a bit, “You have a terrible accent, m’lady.”

I gasped, “Hey! That was spot-on.”

“Spot-on disastrous, maybe.”

I shot him a glare, “You wound me.”

He smiled. “Not yet, but I’m getting there.”

Time slipped away from us, and not in the rushed kind of way. No, it was soft and slow and just out of reach, like the night had decided, for once, not to punish either of us.

The candle between us burned low, the wine dulled into warmth, and conversations…flowed, one after the other.

We stayed until most of the other tables had emptied and the air shifted cooler. When we finally stood, Nathan wordlessly reached for the back of my chair and helped me up. His palm grazed the small of my back, just enough to remind me he was actually real.

We stepped out into the Roman night. The world had quieted, the streets stretched ahead, lit golden by lamplight, and mostly empty.

“Let’s walk for a bit,” Nathan suggested.

I nodded, still drunk on the quiet, the beauty, the strange calm that came from being beside him without needing to run.

He took the lead, and I followed, through winding streets I didn’t know the names of, past shuttered storefronts and sleeping fountains, my sandals clicking softly beside his steps.

I wrapped my arms around myself as a chill slipped through the air, brushing my hand along my bare arms. It was much warmer during the day; I wish I’d packed a jacket.

I felt Nathan’s eyes on me as I shifted in my place. I turned to him, “You know,” I teased, shooting him a knowing look, “a proper gentleman would’ve brought a jacket for moments like these.”

He rolled his eyes like I’d offended him, “I don’t need a jacket to warm you up.”

Before I could even react, he slid his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him, wrapping me all up in his heat. His warmth crept beneath fabric and engulfed me whole. His big warm hand brushed over my bare arm, slow and lazy, his fingers lingering far too long.

Then, before I could suck in my next breath, he dipped his head, without warning, right into the crook of my neck.

His warm breath brushed my skin, and goosebumps erupted all over my body. Then his lips left a kiss, a soft one, god, so deceptively soft, it ruined me.

My entire body locked up at the simplest of gestures.

He edged back, smug as ever, his gaze cutting into mine. “See?” he murmured. “Your face is all red now. You must be so warm.”

I glared at him through the flush, but it was useless. He’d already seen it, felt it, caused it.

I let myself sink into his side anyway. What was the point of fighting it?

“Dinner was nice,” I mumbled, quieter than I meant to. There was a thank-you buried somewhere in there.

“I know,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m a blast to be around.”

“That you are,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “An absolute menace.”

“Me?” He looked genuinely offended, “You wound me, princess. I am an absolute angel.”

I chuckled, “Well, technically…so was Lucifer.”

He smiled and tightened his arms around, “See? You get me.”

I melted further into his warmth, shaking my head. “You’re the worst,” I whispered.

“You keep saying that.” He dipped his head, lips brushing the crown of my hair. “Yet here you are. Out on a date with me, all cuddled up against me, and clearly very much obsessed with me.”

I looked up at him, my eyebrow raising, “If I’m obsessed, what does that make you, stalker?”

He leaned down, his mouth brushing just beside my ear. “I am terminal,” he said, moving his head so he could see my eyes, “I get real withdrawals when you are away from me.”

God, he was impossible.

He said he didn’t think of the future, didn’t believe in building things, but then he turned around and said things like that.

I shook my head, completely thrown, “I don’t understand you.”

“Why do you need to understand me?” He said, winking, “Just enjoy me.”

I felt myself pause, and tense just slightly, because I heard it, the unspoken as long as it lasts buried beneath those words.

He didn’t say it out loud, but I felt it. Just enjoy me, for as long as it lasts.

Almost like this had an expiration date, like he did.

Suddenly, it made more sense, those earlier words of his, how he doesn’t think of tomorrow. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to build a future.

It was that he didn’t think he’d get one, like he was quietly counting his days, like they were numbered, and he’d just live them, one by one.

Maybe that’s what he thought we were too, a match struck in the dark, burning fast, burning bright, but never meant to stay lit.

Why would he think like that?

The thought was still curling in my chest when the street narrowed and curved, and the soft sound of water rose around us. I glanced up and realized we were standing on a small stone bridge.

Beneath us, the water rippled, catching the moonlight in silver threads. The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine and river mist.

I slowed to a stop, my heart softening under the weight of it all.

“Wow,” I breathed, my voice low, mesmerized by the view, but also a part of me aching, because what else could I say when the world looked like a dream, and the boy beside me still didn’t believe he was allowed to stay in it?

I felt him turn and look at me, like he was watching me watch the city.

His arm was still around my waist, but looser now, “Wow?” He asked, a hint of teasing in his quiet voice, “But you’re not even looking at me.”

I glanced at him and shot him a knowing look, “Right, I shouldn’t be liking this,” I mumbled.

“Why not?”

I turned back to the water, the current below whispering like it knew all my secrets, “Well, I shouldn’t fall in love with a city I won’t be seeing again after tomorrow,” I said, layers beneath my words, “Right?”

He didn’t answer right away.

When I looked up at him, his gaze was already on me, silent, still, and unreadable. God, I’d trade anything to live inside his messy mind for just one hour.

“You can love something for one night only, can’t you?” He said, his voice so low, nearly swallowed by the breeze.

He looked at me like he really wanted an answer for that.

We were dancing around the fire now. We were speaking in riddles and metaphors, in his favorite language, so I played along.

“You can,” I said, nodding faintly. “I know it and I’ve tried it, but,” My lips curled into a helpless smile, “But the pain that comes after that one night, is just too much, and I don’t think it’s worth it.”

I exhaled, long and slow. “The aftermath…it lingers longer than the love ever did, so all that ache, I don’t think it’s worth one night, don’t you think so?”

He kept looking at me with utter concentration, as if deciphering something or dismantling a bomb, and then he nodded his head. Without a word, his arm slipped from around me. He stepped forward, leaned his elbows against the railing, and stared out at the water, at the sky, and at the moon.

For the first time, I realized…that maybe he wasn’t really afraid of falling in love, maybe he was afraid of being loved back.

Because love, to someone like Nathan, meant someone would mourn you when you’re gone.

The longer I stood beside him, the longer I gazed at him, silent and calm like this, standing under the moonlight, like a real wolf who could eat me alive, the more I knew; I could easily fall for him. If I let myself, I really could. But I don’t want to, and I shouldn’t.

I could go on with this game because it’s enjoyable. But it’s only borrowed, a distraction, a prettier kind of pain than the one I’m used to. This game keeps me busy, forbidding me from slipping into an old wound.

So, yeah, we could keep going like this, we could play pretend. Dates, laughter, maybe even a relationship by name, but not a real one, not when he’s already decided it has an expiration date.

So I’ll do what he does, live it day by day, hour by hour, and I’ll enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

But I’ll be careful, so careful. I’d be careful not to love it, not even for one night. Because if Chase burned me…Nathan would incinerate me and leave nothing but ashes behind.

I watched as he slipped a hand into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and placed it between his lips. The lighter flicked, the flame danced, my eyes widened, and something in me snapped.

I stepped forward, yanked the cigarette from his mouth, and flung it into the dark water below.

His head jerked back in surprise.

“Hey!” he scowled, reaching into his pocket again, pulling out another cigarette, another try.

I didn’t let him get far.

“Stop it,” I muttered, yanking it away and tossing it into the river.

His fingers curled around my wrist, not tight, but enough to pin me. His glare burned through me, his jaw clenched, his voice seething low. “You stop it.”

Anger engulfed his eyes, but it wasn’t caused by this, no, it was about our earlier conversation. I knew it. This was about everything we didn’t say, even when we wanted to.

“When will you stop this disgusting habit?” I threw back at him.

His eyes flared, something wild behind them. “When I have something else keeping my mouth busy, I’ll stop.” He said it too fast and too sharply.

I stared at him, glaring. My jaw ticked, and I wanted to hit him. So, I reached up, my hands gripping the collar of his shirt, bunching the fabric between my fists, and pulled him closer till my lips crashed into his.

I kissed him like I was trying to shut him up, like I wanted to scrape my soul against his and see which one of us bled first.

My mouth collided with his, my lips parted, my breath ragged, and I didn’t wait for him to respond.

I demanded it.

My teeth scraped his lower lip. My hands fisted his shirt like I was either going to kiss him harder or shove him into the river behind us.

For one second, one long heartbeat, he didn’t move, too stunned, too angry, too something…

Then, he snapped, and he kissed me back like he meant to undo me.

His hand slid up, into my hair, gripping the back of my head. The other wrapped around my waist like he was staking a claim.

His lips were firm, urgent, and rough, his teeth grazing mine as his tongue swept past, deep and hot and furious.

God, we weren’t kissing, we were fighting, fighting every unsaid word, fighting every feeling we couldn’t afford to feel, fighting every rule we swore we’d never break.

His body pressed into mine, hard enough to bruise me. My back hit the edge of the stone bridge, and still, I didn’t pull away. I clawed at him, nails digging into the fabric at his chest, anchoring myself to the heat pouring off him.

He groaned into my mouth, low and gruff, like he hated how much he needed this…needed me.

Our tongues tangled, messy and desperate, like we were trying to devour the silence between us. He tasted like wine and late-night air, and maybe something dangerous I couldn’t name.

The kiss wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t safe.

It was seething.

A promise and a warning wrapped in heat and teeth and tongue.

When he finally broke away, I felt like I might collapse. My knees weren’t knees anymore. My lungs weren’t lungs, just paper bags of chaos trying to hold in too much air. I was both drowning and floating and everything in between.

I sucked in a deep breath, staring up at him, his lips swollen and kiss-wrecked, just like mine.

He kept gazing at me, and without a second thought, he pulled the cigarette pack from his pocket and tossed it into the river. My lips broke into a smile, and I tiptoed, pecking his lips, silently promising to keep them busy with my own, so that he’d never need those little murderous sticks ever again.

He smiled against my lips, his hand still tangled in my hair, mine still fisting his shirt like I couldn’t let go.

I breathed, “Yes.”

He blinked, “What?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Your question. My answer is yes.”

Light flickered back into his eyes, like someone lit a match and left it burning. “No,” he said, teasing. “Not like that. Say it properly.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded, ever so smug. “Yeah, go ahead, the whole sentence. Don’t leave a word out.”

I narrowed my eyes, loosened my grip on his shirt. “You’re such a wanker,” I muttered, throwing in my best British accent.

Nathan tipped his head back, and he burst out laughing. An unapologetic sound that echoed off the stone bridge and made the stars feel closer. God, it sounded so pure, so childlike, so precious; it made my chest ache because I wished I could bottle it up and store it somewhere far away.

He looked at me, still smiling, his face all relaxed and amused. He brought his hand and pinched my lower lip, “I love it when this mouth of yours says bad words, but now say what I want to hear.”

I huffed, full on drama, “Yes, Nathan, I accept to be your girlfriend.”

He nodded, “And?”

I really want to throw him in the river. “And you’ll be my boyfriend.”

He nodded again, satisfied, “And?”

I stared at him. “What now?”

His eyebrow lifted with that infuriating, knowing look. And I knew what he meant.

I folded my arms. “And…” I sighed, “…we can have sex again.” I mumbled it low, like it wasn’t the end of the only rule I’d put between us.

He grinned like he’d just won a war.

I narrowed my eyes. “Stop smiling.”

He shook his head, giddy like a kid, “I can’t.”

“Then, stop looking at me like that,” I added, triggering him on purpose, “Or I’ll start thinking you’re going to fall in love with me and ask me to marry you or something.”

His smile didn’t fade. If anything, it softened.

He brought his hand up and grazed my cheek, brushing my hair and tucking it behind my ear, “Well, you’re already making me do things I never thought I would,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t be too shocked if you end up making me change all my beliefs and…wife you up one day.”

Holy crap.

What happened to living it day by day? Hour by hour?

I blinked. “One day?” I echoed, my heartbeat crawling into my throat. “What happened to not building futures?”

His gaze didn’t waver, just held mine with that steady, quiet fire of his.

“True, I don’t build futures,” he said, his voice low, velvet laced with ash. “But if I ever did…”

There was a breath.

A pause.

A touch of his thumb at the edge of my jaw.

“It’d look a lot like you.”

⊹˚₊‧─────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Author’s note:

Hey my lovely people!
I know it’s been a while but I was in my hometown, and believe me, I had no time to either write or think or plot *sigh*

Anyway, now, I am back to my place, and back to my old routine. The updates will resume weekly, and sometimes we’ll have double updates, too *wink*

Please do vote and comment, show me that you didn’t forget this story while I was on this little hiatus of mine *sniffs*

Oh, by the way, you all must’ve seen those trending gemini AI pictures, so I described Nathan and Aylin on their date and asked for a picture, and this is what it made, lol xD

I love you all *grey heart*