Page 52 of All The Pretty Little Lies

I find myself studying Zaire's face, my eyes drawn to his unique gaze. While Oscar’s eyes are a piercing blue, Zaire’s are the opposite. So pale they are almost silver with a dark ring of dark blue circling the outside of them. It’s as if his eyes are a battle between darkness and light.

"Your eyes," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "They're different."

Zaire's lips curl into a soft smile, a hint of self-consciousness flickering across his features.

“It's the only thing that really sets me apart from Oz."

I shake my head, my hands still resting on his chest. I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palms. "That's not true," I say, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice.

Zaire's brow furrows slightly, a question in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. The salty air fills my lungs, grounding me in this moment. "I mean, your eyes aren't the only thing that sets you apart from Oscar. You're so much more than just a twin with different eyes."

His arms tighten almost imperceptibly around me, and I find myself leaning into his warmth. The morning sun casts a golden glow on his skin, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the softness in his expression.

“You've been my rock, Z," I continue, the words tumbling out before I can second-guess them. "The way you understand my silences, how you seem to know exactly when to push and when to give me space. The gentleness in your touch, even with all those tattoos and that tough exterior."

I trace my fingers along one of the intricate designs on his forearm, marveling at the contrast between the harsh lines of ink and the softness of his skin. "You're patient, and kind, and fiercely protective. But there's a wildness in you too, something untamed that calls to me."

Zaire's breath catches, and I look up to see his eyes darkening with an emotion I can't quite name. The air between us feels charged, electric with unspoken words and possibilities.

"Vesper," he breathes my name like a prayer, his forehead coming to rest against mine. "I?—"

Zaire's lips hover mere inches from mine, his warm breath mingling with my own. My heart races, a mix of anticipation and fear coursing through my veins. I want this, I realize with startling clarity. I want to feel his lips on mine, to lose myself in the warmth of his embrace.

But as he leans in, closing that final breath of space between us, my body betrays me. I freeze, every muscle locking into place. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel myself trembling in his arms. It's not fear of Zaire, but a deep-seated panic that rises unbidden from the depths of my subconscious.

Zaire immediately senses the change in me. He pulls back, his eyes searching my face with concern. The loss of his warmth is immediate, and I find myself missing it even as relief washes over me.

"I'm sorry," I stammer, heat rising to my cheeks. Embarrassment floods through me, hot and uncomfortable. "I don't know what happened. I thought I was ready, I want to..." I trail off, unable to meet his gaze.

The gentle lapping of waves against the shore fills the silence between us. The sun has dipped lower on the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant streaks of orange and pink. It's beautiful, but I can barely appreciate it through the haze of my mortification.

"Hey," Zaire's voice is soft, coaxing my eyes back to his face. His expression is one of understanding, not disappointment or frustration as I had feared. "You have nothing to apologize for, Vesper. Nothing at all."

His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his touch feather-light and infinitely gentle. "Remember what you just said about me?"he asks, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "That I'm a patient man?"

I nod, leaning into his touch despite myself. His palm is warm against my skin, calloused yet comforting.

"Well, you were right," he continues. "I am patient. Especially when it comes to you." His thumb brushes softly across my cheekbone, wiping away a tear I hadn't even realized had fallen. "We move at your pace, Vesper. Always. There's no rush, no pressure. I'm here, for whatever you need, whenever you're ready."

His words wash over me like a balm, soothing the jagged edges of my anxiety. I take a deep, shuddering breath, filling my lungs with the salty ocean air. "Thank you," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

Zaire's smile widens, genuine and warm. "No need to thank me. This is what being there for someone looks like. It's what you deserve."

I feel the heat of embarrassment still burning in my cheeks, unable to shake off the lingering shame of my involuntary reaction.

Zaire's words hang in the air between us, his promise of patience and understanding a balm to my frayed nerves. Yet, I can't help but feel a nagging sense of frustration with myself. I know he’s not The Shadow Man or any of the people that hurt me. I am safe with him so why can't I just be normal? Why does my body betray me at every turn? Why can’t I allow myself to give in to the feelings I have inside of me?

"I want you to know this, Vesper," he says, his gaze never wavering from mine. "I will never, ever take more than you're willing to give. Your choices, your autonomy; they're important to me. You've had so much taken from you already. I refuse to be another person who tries to control you or make decisions for you."

The sincerity in his voice, the fierce protectiveness in his eyes is almost overwhelming. A tear escapes, trailing down my cheek, but before I can wipe it away, Zaire's thumb gently brushes it aside.

Zaire's thumb lingers on my cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. "No one will ever make you cry again," he says, his voice low and fierce. "I'll kill the man or woman who causes a single fucking tear to fall from your beautiful, emerald eyes."

There's a promise there, a vow of protection that should frighten me given my history, but instead, it makes me feel safe. Cherished, even. I lean into his touch, allowing myself this moment of vulnerability.

But Zaire, perceptive as ever, must sense the lingering tension in my body. His expression softens, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. "Hey," he says, his tone lighter now. "I've got a serious question for you."

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