Page 59 of Toxic

I rolled my 'stormy' eyes, inherited from my alpha father, an immigrant from Iceland.

"I’m a mean bitch."

"Only on the surface. Anton would never say that about you."

"I loved him."

"Exactly my point."

We didn't write anything for a moment.

Then Liam suddenly sent another line: "You know, I would really like for us both to have a happy ending one day, we really need it."

Sighing, I replied, "Yeah, I would like that too. Happy endings are the best, but they are… rare, Liam."

Mentioning that I just didn't believe in happily ever afters seemed almost rude, so I decided not to go into it.

Liam didn't comment either, he just sent:

"Is our plan to rent an apartment together still on? I found a great place. It’s near DevApp, and becomes available right on graduation day. The landlord is tired of renting to students and prefers working tenants. So I… tentatively reserved it. Do you want to see the pictures?"

I felt a weird knot in my stomach. Plans, plans… I involuntarily turned my head slightly, glancing at Skye’s arm, who was still asleep behind me. Strangely, I felt like a traitor writing:

"Yeah, it’s still on. Send them."

He showed me a few photos of a small apartment. It had two bedrooms, which I was relieved to see.

"Looks good."

"Yeah? I’m glad. I’ll confirm that we’re taking it then."

I sighed. Liam and I both got into DevApp. We had been working there remotely part-time and were set to start full-time as junior programmers a week after graduation. Liam had been talking about renting an apartment together for a while… but only today did I officially confirm it to him.

Maybe I only did it because I was scared of how good it felt in Skye’s arms—incredibly intoxicating. But it would end in disaster because he was the type of alpha I would fall hard for. Too hard. And burn to ashes after he dumped me. I couldn’t let that happen, even if I so wanted to. So much.

SKYE

I woke up just before 6:00 am. The light was still a bit pink, that dim, early morning glow. I was lying there holding Soren in my arms, his head resting on my shoulder. I looked at his face; in the warm sunlight, he looked better than yesterday, not as pale. I watched him for a moment.

Once again, I was struck by how captivating he was. To me, his features were flawless. His nose was straight, his lips full and inviting, perfect for sweet, soft kisses. And his eyelashes… they seemed so long. I’d never seen anyone with naturally long lashes like his. They lay on his cheeks like black butterfly wings, thick and dark. I admired them for a while. And his eyebrows? Was it even possible for someone to have such perfectly shaped brows without grooming? On his cheekbones, if I looked closely, I could see very faint golden freckles, visible only in the right light. He was the epitome of winter beauty: pale skin and jet-black hair.

I glanced at his tattoos. They were done in black ink, resembling intricate coils of barbed wire or perhaps some kind of thorny vines creeping up both sides of his neck, onto his jawline, then reaching his temple. The sides of his head were shaved in a fade, progressing from a very short shave, maybe1 mm, to gradually longer hair on top of his scalp. It was an extravagant, almost avant-garde style, likely a hindrance for public-facing jobs, but Soren wanted to be a programmer. That meant spending hours in rooms where no one saw you, so he probably didn’t worry much about his tattoos making a bad impression on employers. I also took a moment to look at his piercings. He had several small ones in his eyebrow, each ring adorned with tiny crystals, one small diamond in his left nostril, and another small ring in the corner of his mouth. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss with that ring being there. Would it be cold? Or did his body heat warm it? I really wanted to find out, but Soren was firm about kisses. Whenever I moved my lips to the edge of his jaw, he’d turn slightly away, making it clear he didn’t want to be kissed.

Strands of his silky black hair were scattered on my shoulder. Holding him so close was absolutely wonderful, my heart sped up, and I wanted to lean in and kiss his forehead, but at that moment, he seemed to sense my emotions, and his eyes opened. From this close, in the morning light, his irises looked almost silvery, bordered by a darker graphite ring, with the inside resembling the color of storm clouds. His eyes were truly breathtaking; I could stare into them, mesmerized, wishing he would stare back at me… with warm feelings.

I yearned for him to be mine so badly, to belong to me. But that wasn’t possible now, I knew I had to be patient.

"How are you feeling today?"

In his painfully beautiful eyes, I saw a flicker of unease. I could almost see the light of awareness returning to them, the realization that he was lying in my arms, and the discomfort that came with it—not the physical kind, but the worst kind—mental.

"Way better. I have classes at 9 am, and I’m going."

"You can’t be serious. You just had a miscarriage!"

"I need to go there. I’m shooting for an A, and I can’t miss it," he said firmly.

"Don’t forget, I’m in those classes too. I can take notes and give them to you, no big deal," I assured him.

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