Page 84 of Joker

That’s enough. More than enough.

I turn before I can think better of it. Step past them. Back into the clubhouse. Back into noise and light and people and everything that feels easier than standing there watching another woman touch him like she has a right to it.

I don’t stop moving until I’m back in the hallway. Until I’m back in my room. Until the door is shut and the quiet closes around me again.

My heart is beating too fast. My skin feels too warm. And no matter how many times I tell myself I don’t care, the image is still there.

Her hand on his arm. Too close. Too easy.

I sit on the edge of the bed and press my hands into my thighs, grounding myself. This is exactly why this is a bad idea. Exactly why I can’t let this become something more than it already is.

Because men like him don’t come without complications. Because attraction like this doesn’t come without consequences. Because I don’t get to want something just because it feels good in the moment.

I lie down beside Lexi, pulling the blanket up and staring at the ceiling.

And even as I close my eyes, I can still feel it. The heat of him standing too close.

The weight of his voice when he said I didn’t have to unlearn the parts of myself that kept me alive. The way he looked at me like he saw more than I’ve said out loud.

And worse than all of that…

The way I wanted to stay there on that porch with him.

That’s the part that scares me the most.

The club girl gets one hand on my arm and I know immediately it’s not happening.

That should not be unusual.

Any other week, any other version of my life, I would’ve let her stay there. Maybe longer. Maybe long enough for the drag of her nails over my skin to turn into something else by the time the porch emptied and the noise in the clubhouse dropped low enough that nobody paid attention to who disappeared where. She’s pretty enough, available enough, and for a long time that’s been more than enough for me.

No promises. No softness. No confusion.

A woman knows exactly what I am, I know exactly what she wants, and nobody wakes up asking stupid questions in the morning.

Easy. Clean. Forgettable.

That used to be enough too.

Now all I can see when she steps too close is amber eyes going tight for a split second before Raven turned away on the porch. Long black hair over my sweatshirt. The shape of her standing there in the dark while I told her she didn’t have tounlearn the things that kept her alive. The way she left before I could stop the scene from becoming exactly what it looked like.

That’s what stops me.

Not the club girl. Not restraint. Not some sudden attack of morality.

Raven.

She’s been stopping me since the night I picked her up, and I’m only just getting honest enough with myself to admit it.

The girl’s fingers slide along the leather ending at my bicep again like she thinks I’m just taking a second to decide. “Come on,” she says, mouth tilted in a smile that’s done the job often enough to make her confident in it. “You look bored.”

I catch her wrist before she can drag her hand any farther.

Not rough enough to hurt. Clear enough to make the point.

“No.”

She laughs softly like I’m teasing. “You’ve never complained before.”