Page 123 of Ignition

At some point, her shoulders quietened, and the tears ran dry.

When her boneless body slumped against me, and she couldn’t cry anymore, I helped her to her feet, frowning as her knees nearly buckled, before I picked her up and carried her out towards the dormitories. One hand hooked under her knees, the other cradled her shoulders, and my lips brushed her hairline—over and over—as her head lolled onto my chest and my footsteps ate the distance.

A few curious pairs of eyes followed us up the stairs, but I didn’t care.

Her feet hit the floor as I lowered her, but her legs still wobbled, so my fingers lingered, anchoring her by the waist.

“Which one’s yours, baby?”

The warm glow from the sconces along the wall played over her face, smoothing her exhaustion and the faint lines of her tears, but they were burned into my retinas.

She blinked, as if she’d been somewhere far away, then stared around as if seeing this place for the first time. She shuffled ahead, paused at the end of the hall, in front of a door on the right, and turned to me, face drained of colour, eyes red and puffy.

Worry stabbed my guts all over.

I cupped her face in my hands and leaned down, until my forehead rested against hers.

“You need me to stay with you a bit?”

Her breath stuttered over my face, kicking up a faint scent of whiskey.

“N-no, I’ll be okay. I’ll draw myself a bath and sulk,” she said and sighed, knotting her fingers in my hair as if part of her didn’t want to let go.

I nodded. “Sulking it is. Call me if you need anything,” I murmured.

She made no response.

“Mia.” I squeezed her waist and pulled back to look at her. “Gonna need an answer, baby.”

Her eyes flicked to mine as if she’d forgotten I was standing there. After another painful sigh, she nodded.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Gratitude twinkled over her face for a heartbeat—before the exhaustion of the night smothered it.

She stood on tiptoe, her movements slow and tentative, and kissed me.

It was only a soft, sweet, even chaste press of lips.

Even so, my heart stumbled over itself, and my smile as she pulled away and slipped inside was a little dazed. I lingered in case she’d change her mind—staring at the door, palm pressed to my mouth, as if trying to trap the kiss.

I stepped out for a cigarette, the slap of winter air against my face a welcome reprieve. My fingers shook as I clicked the lighter a few times until it caught, and I inhaled a long drag I’d needed like oxygen.

Anger coursed through me, screaming in my blood now that nothing kept it in check—no worry for Mia, no lingering shock. My throat and lungs burned, and my head tipped back against the brick wall as I watched the smoke curl up and tried not to plan his murder.

He’d been keeping to himself for a week or two, and I hadn’t thought much of it…

Had he known?

And if so, when?

When I’d punched Nathan was my best guess, but there was no way to tell for sure without confronting him. The cigarette extinguished with a soft hiss in the overflowing ashtray, and my blood pounded in my ears, drowning my purposeful strides as I headed back to the party.

I found him easily. Too easily, as if he’d been waiting for me.

The muted, warm lights spilled over him all wrong where he nursed a whiskey by the bar, looking like a kicked puppy.

I knew better than to fall for it.