Page 53 of All The Pretty Little Lies

I raise an eyebrow, curious despite myself. "Oh?"

"Is a hotdog a sandwich or a sub?"

The question is so unexpected, so utterly ridiculous given the heaviness of our previous conversation, that I can't help but laugh. It bubbles up from my chest, surprising me with its genuineness.

"What?" I manage to get out between giggles.

Zaire grins, clearly pleased with my reaction. "You heard me. This is a matter of utmost importance, Vesper. The fate of culinary categorization hangs in the balance."

I shake my head, still chuckling. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe," he concedes, "but you're smiling. I would ask you a million ridiculous things just to have one of your smiles.”

VESPER

I'm back there again,the screeching of metal and shattering glass piercing my ears. But this time, it's different. Instead of the oppressive darkness closing in, a familiar figure emerges from the wreckage. Oscar. His blue eyes, usually so cool and calculating, are wild with concern as he reaches for me.

"Vesper!" he calls out, his voice cutting through the chaos. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me from the twisted metal that threatens to consume me. The scent of hissandalwood cologne envelops me as he cradles me against his chest. I can feel his heart racing, matching the frantic beat of my own.

The world around us fades away, the carnage of the accident melting into a hazy backdrop. All I can focus on is Oscar's face, his features etched with relief and something else...something that makes my breath catch in my throat.

"I thought I'd lost you," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. His thumb traces my lower lip, and I shiver at the contact.

Without warning, he leans in, closing the distance between us. His lips meet mine in a searing kiss that sets every nerve ending alight. It's passionate, desperate, filled with all the words we've left unspoken. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer as I return the kiss with equal fervor.

The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of mint and desire. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance, and I grant it willingly. The kiss deepens, and I feel as though I'm falling and flying all at once.

Just as I'm about to lose myself completely in the sensations, a jolt runs through me.

My eyes fly open, and I find myself bolt upright in my bed, my heart pounding and my breath coming in short gasps. The dream fades quickly, leaving me disoriented and flushed. I bring a trembling hand to my lips, still feeling the phantom pressure of Oscar's kiss.

I close my eyes, willing my racing heart to slow. The dream clings to me like a second skin, refusing to dissipate entirely. Oscar's touch, his scent, the taste of his lips—it all felt so real, so vivid. I can still feel the ghost of his fingers on my cheek, the warmth of his breath against my skin.

With a frustrated groan, I throw off the silk sheets and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The cool wooden floor beneathmy feet helps ground me but does little to quell the fire still burning in my veins. I catch a glimpse of myself in the ornate mirror across the room - flushed cheeks, tousled blonde hair, and eyes bright with a mixture of confusion and desire.

"Get it together, Vesper," I mutter to myself, running a hand through my tangled locks. “It was just a dream.”

I move to the closet Talon seems to be filling for me. Between ice cream, and new clothes, he seems to always have what I need without having to ask for it. I settle on a pair of high-waisted black leggings, a white t-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops.

The delicious smell of Talon's cooking wafts through the air, further rousing me from my slumber. Expecting to find Talon at work, I am surprised to find Oscar's bare back facing me as he tends to the stove. His toned physique is accented by the low-slung gray sweatpants clinging to his hips.

I freeze in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat. Oscar's movements are fluid and graceful, a stark contrast to his usual guarded demeanor. The muscles in his back ripple as he reaches for a spatula, his skin golden in the early morning light streaming through the kitchen window. There's an ease to him that I've never seen before, a quiet confidence that radiates from every pore.

My eyes trace the line of his spine, following it down to where his sweatpants sit dangerously low on his hips. I find myself wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers along that path, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath my touch. The thought sends a shiver through me, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to quell the sudden surge of longing.

Oscar hums softly as he cooks, a melody I don't recognize but find oddly comforting. It's as if I'm witnessing a private performance, a side of him that he keeps hidden from the world. I lean against the doorframe, content to watch this unguarded version of Oscar for as long as I can.

But then, without turning, his voice breaks the spell. "Enjoying the view?" There's a hint of amusement in his tone, and I can almost hear the smirk I know is playing on his lips.

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I realize I've been caught. I open my mouth to respond, but the words stick in my throat. How long has he known I was here? Has he been aware of my presence this entire time?

Oscar turns slowly, his blue eyes locking with mine. There's a spark of something in them, mischief perhaps, or challenge. "It’s rude to stare.”

I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. "I was just surprised to see you cooking," I manage to stammer out.

He shrugs, the movement causing the muscles in his chest and abdomen to flex. I force my eyes back up to his face, hoping he didn't notice my wandering gaze. "Talon deserves a break," Oscar says. I step further into the room, drawn by both the delicious smell of whatever he's cooking and the magnetic pull of his presence. “Plus, he’s passed out on the floor in Alex’s room.”

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