Page 57 of Ashen Souls

“Harper!”

“Keep going.” Harper rested her elbows on the table.

I exhaled, feeling ridiculously exposed. “He handed me a book. Our fingers brushed.”

“That’s it? A book and a brush of fingers? Aves, no wonder your hot demon is winning. He actually puts in the effort.”

I hesitated, my gaze falling back to my coffee. “Well... not just that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do tell.”

“I stood up to give him space when he reached for a text on the shelf behind me. I twisted the wrong way. My injured ribs didn’t appreciate the movement.”

Harper’s expression sharpened. “And?”

“And the room spun,” I confessed. “I almost took a dive into his desk. He caught me before I could hit the floor.”

“Where, exactly?” she demanded.

“My arm. And... my waist.”

Harper let the stirrer drop into her cup with a quiet clack. She sank back into her chair. “So... the elusive Professor Hale caught you in his arms.”

“I didn't swoon,” I protested. “It was a reflex to pain. It wasn't like that.”

“Oh, Aves,” she said. “A demon tries to break you, and the professor actually catches you. It was absolutely like that.”

A somber silence settled over the table, underscored only by the distant, muffled hum of the morning traffic. I opened my mouth to protest, but the defense dissolved before I could speak.

Partly because the remembered pressure of his hand at my waist was still too vivid.

I took a slow sip of my coffee, offering up a silent surrender.

“So let me get this straight. On one hand, you’ve got the brooding academic: real, tangible, with actual office hours. On the other, you’ve got your midnight shadow: hotter than hell, apparently better at foreplay, but... fictional.”

I nearly choked on the last of my espresso. “He’s not fictional.”

“Aves, unless he pays rent and has a Social Security number, he’s a coping mechanism,” Harper countered.

I shot her a dark look, though my lips curved despite myself. “You didn't experience it.”

“No, but I’ve seen the aftermath.” She pointed her coffee stirrer at me like a weapon. “The way you zone out? The way you bite your lip like you’re still tasting him? Yeah, babe. I’ve seen plenty.”

I shoved my empty cup away, a sudden heat flooding my cheeks. “Harper…”

She grinned, her eyes gleaming with familiar mischief. “You’re torn, admit it. One is off-limits because he controls your academic future. The other is off-limits because he belongs in an exorcism movie. And somehow, both of them are making you completely lose your mind.”

“That’s not fair,” I muttered.

“Life’s not fair,” she replied. “But it is entertaining. And honestly? I can’t wait to see which one ruins you first.”

I groaned. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m right.” She leaned forward. “Look, Aves. You’ve spent years wasting time on half-assed boys: bartenders, drummers, safe disappointments. Now you’ve got two contenders who actually make you feel alive. Maybe it’s not about choosing right now. Maybe it’s about admitting you finally want someone worth burning for.”

Her words landed heavy in the quiet kitchen. I looked down at my wrist, where the hidden brand pulsed in time with my heartbeat. Someone worth burning for.

“I should go.” I pushed away from the table to escape the weight of her observation. “The mythology essay isn’t going to write itself.”