Page 101 of Rogue Riders Duet

Stupid. So fucking stupid, Alaina.

I look up, meet my reflection in the mirror, and flinch. I look exposed. Raw. My clothes are a mess, my face is blotchy, and my skin that is usually so carefully covered is revealed.

I rush to grab the hoodie and yank it over my head so fast I nearly trip, but it’s no good. The fabric doesn’t erase his fingerprints, and it doesn’t scrub away the way his voice shook when he said baby girl like he meant it.

And then he looked at me like I was a goddamn mistake.

I slam my hands into the mirror, palms flat, forehead pressed between them, like maybe if I press hard enough, I can shatter the reflection and crawl out of this moment.

The mirror vibrates so hard, my phone slips off the bench beside me and clatters to the floor, the screen lighting up like a spotlight, and that damn song is still playing on repeat.

I can’t stop shaking. My breath is ragged, and my chest hitches like my body can’t decide if I’m about to cry or scream. Maybe both.

He saw me, really saw me.

And then he ran.

My ribs ache with the memory of his fingers ghosting over them, so I pull the hoodie down to my knees, but it’s no good. The ghost of Finn’s fingers remains, trailing along my ribs, hips, and just under the band of my bra. It burns.

Drowning in the aftermath, I just stand there, trying to remember how to function. Then my phone buzzes at my feet, vibrating against the floor, and I flinch as I remember the fight with Dane, the reason why I was in here crying my eyes out in the first place. My hands are still unsteady as I crouch down and grab it, shutting off the music before reading the newest text from my brother.

Dane

Al, please tell me you’re okay.

My throat tightens as my fingers move on instinct, typing out the only thing I can offer.

I’m fine.

It isn’t a lie, but it’s not the truth either. It’s only the best I can offer him that isn’t silence. Before I can even put the phone down, it rings. Of course.

I stare at the screen, Dane’s name filling me with dread. My thumb hovers, but I can’t. I can’t face this right now, can’t deal with whatever mix of worry, panic, and guilt is waiting on the other end of the line.

Hitting the side button, I shut it up and shove the phone deep into my hoodie’s front pocket. Then I sink to the floor, my back against the wall, and wrap my arms around my knees, trying to fold in on myself, trying to make the shaking stop.

Even that simple movement hurts in this body.

Everything is more fucked now than it was ten minutes ago, and it was already a mess then.

Why did I pull him in, kiss him like it could’ve meant something, when I know otherwise?

I should regret it. I know it’s a mistake for both of us, but when I identify everything I do feel, the regret isn’t there. If the only kiss I ever get in this lifetime is that one, I’ll take it. I always wanted Finn Greer to be my first kiss. And never in my wildest dreams did I expect him to kiss me back like that, like he wanted me too.

He kissed me like it was our last day on Earth, and that irony has my head falling to my knees as fresh tears pour out of me. They’re the kind that taste like hope, regret, and every fucked-up almost in between.

For just a second, I thought…

… I felt…

Like I was worth saving.

I turn my head and press my cheek against the top of my knees. Breaths hiccup in and out of me, trying to find the rhythm again, only pausing when I hear the door creak open.

Footsteps approach, but my watery eyes are too blurry for me to make out who it is until the figure is right in front of me, and his knees drop to the floor, so close I could reach out and touch him.

Luc-fucking-Delacroix.

His hands are on me instantly, one bracing my shoulder while the other cradles my head, turning and pulling my face to meet his frantic gaze.