Page 16 of Born in Fire

I sip my tea, now lukewarm, and my thoughts drift back to Dorian. The contrast between the anxiety Tyler’s voice provoked and the warmth I felt with Dorian is stark. But is that just because Dorian is new? Tyler was charming once, too. Attentive. Interested in what I had to say.

My therapist’s voice plays in my mind:“Trust your instincts, Juno. They were working fine before Tyler. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t see the warning signs—it’s that you were taught to ignore them.”

What are my instincts saying about Dorian? There’s the attraction, certainly. The chemistry that flared between us. But beyond that, there was something… familiar about him. Not in a way that triggered warning bells, but more like recognition. As if some part of me already knew him.

“That’s ridiculous,” I say aloud. “You spoke to him for all of five minutes.”

But I can’t deny the pull I felt. Can’t explain why, hours later, I’m still thinking about the way he said my name, as if rolling it around on his tongue.

I curl my legs beneath me and reach for my sketchbook. Almost without conscious thought, I begin drawing his eyes, trying to capture the intensity of his gaze. My pencil moves across the paper, adding the strong line of his jaw, the hint of a smile that seemed both practiced and genuine.

My phone buzzes again, and this time I flinch before seeing it’s a text from an unknown number.

Hi. This is Dorian from the coffee shop. Just wanted to make sure you had my number, too.

Simple. Direct. No overt familiarity or excessive punctuation or emojis. No demands or guilt trips.

I read it three times before saving his number in my contacts. I should wait before responding. That’s the dating rule, isn’t it? Don’t seem too eager.

But I’m not playing games anymore. Tyler taught me how exhausting those are.

Thanks for texting. I’ve saved your number.

His response comes almost immediately.

I’d like to see you again. Are you free for drinks on Tuesday?

Again, it’s simple and direct. Confident without being brassy. I find myself liking it. I find myself wanting to spend time with someone who doesn’t play mind games. And somehow, I’m sure that he won’t.

Tuesday works for me. 6pm?I type, then hit “Send” before I can overthink it. Early drinks should be fine. Short and sweet; I won’t have to sit through an entire meal if it turns out to be a disaster.

Again, his response comes within moments.

Perfect. I know a place with a great view of the stars. If weather permits.

A smile spreads across my face again. He remembered. Such a small thing, but it feels significant. After Tyler, I’d grown accustomed to my preferences being ignored or dismissed as unimportant. But Dorian actually listened when I spoke about the stars.

I run my thumb over my phone screen, feeling a flutter of something I haven’t felt in a long time—anticipation without anxiety. Maybe I’m being foolish, letting my guard down so quickly. But there’s something refreshingly straightforwardabout him that makes me want to trust this feeling, even if just a little.

And it doesn’t hurt that he’s smoking hot.

I set the phone down and return to my sketch, adding definition to the unusual scale tattoos I glimpsed beneath his rolled-up sleeves. There’s a lightness in my chest that wasn’t there before, despite Tyler’s intrusion. A tiny bubble of hope that I’m almost afraid to acknowledge.

Tuesday is four days away. Two days after the anniversary of my parents’ death, so I can try to process it. Four days to analyze every red flag, every potential warning sign. Four days to talk myself out of it.

Or four days to remember that I’m stronger now. That I can recognize danger without hiding from every possibility of connection.

I glance at the phone once more where it’s resting on the coffee table. In one evening, it’s shown me two different paths in my world: one representing a past I’m still escaping, one offering a future I’m cautiously considering.

I don’t know which path is safer. But suddenly, I’m curious to find out.

Chapter 6

Dorian

I arrive twenty minutes early, which is so unlike me it’s almost embarrassing. Punctuality is Caleb’s obsession, not mine. Yet here I stand at the rooftop bar of The Pinnacle, checking my watch like I’m the one being kept waiting.

What the fuck is up with you, asshole?

---