weren’t okay.” I
folded 1 2
“Well, it’s not like I could relax with my dumbass friends tearing through my apartment like they’re allergic to silence.” He took off his jacket and placed it over the back of the armchair. His shirt clung to him–black, velvety, and just damp enough to reveal the sinew of his torso beneath.
“Needed air,” he said. “Figured you might too.”
I looked at him then. Really looked.
Raymond Brad was two years younger than me, but the way he moved- slow, deliberate, unbothered–made him feel timeless. That slouch, the messy hair that never listened to gravity, the cocky lean of a man who knew he was good–looking and didn’t care if anyone else noticed. But the real damage was in the eyes. Those eyes could convince you to make terrible decisions and still thank him for it after.
I made one, months ago.
10:33
334700 in the Dark
And I never took it back.
“I didn’t expect you to still use the key,” I murmured.
He smiled. “You didn’t take it back.”
I had no response to that.
He took a step closer, his stare narrowing slightly, as if I were the odd one out in my own house.
“So… what happened?”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“I thought I heard you on a call earlier,” he said, tilting his head, tone deceptively light. “Voices. Just for a few seconds.”
My mouth opened–but nothing came out.
Then I blinked, swallowed, and forced a shrug. “Not at all. Maybe it was the TV.”
His brow lifted, sharp against the dim light. “There’s no TV on, Julia.”
But Raymond didn’t push any further. He didn’t have to.
Instead, he closed the gap between us just enough–not touching, but close enough that the heat emanating from him electrified the space like the crackling before a storm.
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he added quietly, as if he was scared of upsetting something delicate between us. “I just… I don’t want you to become sick over stuff you can’t control. “Sometimes you worry too much.”
That was the problem, right?
10:33 3
serpads in the Dark
I worried too much. I thought too much. I felt too much.
And now everything in me felt cracked open like an overripe fruit.
12 Waders
I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. My thoughts were slippery, sliding between the folds of memory and impulse, never landing long enough for logic to catch up. I wasn’t okay. Not tonight. But there was something in Raymond’s expression that made me want to pretend I was still a person- as if I hadn’t been utterly engulfed by the mess I was making.
Even just for a moment.
“I wanted to be alone tonight but somehow I’m glad you are here.” I heard myself say. My voice wasn’t strong–it was barely there, a confession too heavy for the air it rode in on.
Raymond’s gaze softened, a spark of something unspoken passing between us, but he remained still, respecting the fragile space I need.
“I mean it,” I said quietly, my voice scarcely more than air. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Slowly, he closed the gap, his hands resting gently on my arms, steady and grounded.
Before doubt could rise, before my restless mind could list every reason this was reckless, every warning I’d buried deep, I leaned in, heart hammering, and kissed him–raw and urgent, as if trying to reclaim something lost in anxiety.
It was rougher this time, desperate, like we were both trying to drown out something louder than either of us could name. He caught me–arms sliding around my waist, anchoring me to the moment–and I fell into him like gravity had finally won.
His lips moved against mine with purpose, hands skimming down to my
10330
hips, pulling me closer until I could feel the tension humming in his body like a wire pulled too tight. My fingers finding the warm skin under his black shirt. He groaned into my mouth, a sound that made everything inside me twist and unravel.
I needed this.
Not the distraction. Not the affection.
Him.
We stumbled toward the couch, mouths never parting, breaths ragged. He sat, pulling me into his lap like he’d been dreaming about this exact moment for months. Maybe he had. Maybe I had too and just didn’t have the guts to admit it.
His hands were everywhere–gripping, tracing, memorizing. And mine were no better.
“Say something,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead into mine as we gathered our breath.
“I’m not thinking,” I muttered.
“Good.”
I kissed him again and again, until the pain in my chest subsided and the voices in my head stopped.
Eventually, his grasp on me relaxed. His fingertips softened. His body softened beneath mine. His breathing slowed.
I peered down and noticed the gradual rise and fall of his chest, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Asleep.
Just like that–so simply, as if the weight of his world had vanished in a single breath.
10330
Crossroads in the Dark
128
I should’ve moved. Should’ve gotten up, slipped silently into the familiar comfort of my bed.
But I didn’t.
I stayed, frozen, watching him. Tracing the sharp line of his jaw with my eyes, letting my mind wander into dangerous territory.
A sudden buzz shattered the quiet.
Raymond’s phone glowed
glowed on the
on the table beside us.
I blinked, glanced at his peaceful face, still lost in sleep.
The screen lit up again.
$50,000 received
From: Andrew
The name struck me like a punch straight to the chest.
Andrew…..
