Page 641 of Flirting with Darkness

He’s standing with his back to me, in the middle of his living room. I can smell the cup of fresh coffee in his hand.

In front of him, and glaring at me over Hadrion’s shoulder, is the owner of the strange new voice. His hair is copper red, cut short and asymmetrical, and when he looks at me — I nearly falter.

His eyes.

They’re like twin flames, slide and glowing. Crimson red to Hadrion’s yellow-gold.

“Ah shit,” Hadrion mutters, and then spins around, fast-balling me a wicked grin. “Heyyy, beautiful.” His greeting throws me for a loop. “Meet Falc, my, uh. Friend.” He hitches his shoulder and takes a sip of his coffee, like we’re all sitting down casually to brunch in a television sitcom.

My lips part in anger, and I lift a finger. It’s shaking, but regardless, the rage I point it at him with is very, very real.

“Don’t you ever talk about me like that again, to anyone,” I say, my voice squeaking on more than one word, but I forge valiantly ahead anyway. “EVER. What I may or may not do with you —”

“Do with me? Present tense? That implies this thing’s still going, and you’re up for round two. Falc, can you, ah, maybe kindly fuck off for a bit?” Hadrion asks casually, and crosses the room to set his coffee cup down on the kitchen island. “Maybe like, an hour? Maybe two… three…?”

His friend, Falc, looks uncomfortable, and glances between the two of us in turn before making a point of clearing his throat.

“Maybe I should —”

“We are NOT,” I cut Falc off, and Hadrion raises an eyebrow at me.

“Is there another reason you came down here in only a shirt?” he asks, and Falc lets out a low whistle.

“Oh, bud, I don’t think that’s —” Falc starts as I see red, my vision completely misting over.

I’m going to murder him. I’m actually going to.

“I’m wearing this shirt and only this shirt because it’s the only thing that was there, because it’s the only thing you LEFT ME WITH AFTER FUCKING ME!” I take a step toward Hadrion, and he’s gone still, a slight frown tugging all of his features downward several degrees.

“So I’m gonna go get a bagel…” Falc, previously irritated, now just sounds like he wants to avoid this domestic he’s walked into. Or caused. It is sort of his fault, in a way. Maybe. But all I can do is stare at Hadrion. How could the mystery man who took my v-card last night, who made me feel so amazing, so divine, so precious, like I was the only thing that had ever and would ever matter in the confines of that room, be the same individual as this… this shit-talking fuck-boy himbo?

“No, one sec,” Hadrion says, holding up a hand to stall his friend. He frowns at me, but it’s a different frown. One of actual apology. “I’m sorry. I disrespected you, and I’m sorry.”

“Wh-what?” I stammer, feeling a little like a kettle that’s had all of its steam let out. He steps toward me, walking by a low leather chair, and he pulls a blanket off of the back of it. He wraps it around my shoulders and, hesitantly, I let him. He looks down at me, and the tone of his eyes as well as his voice is sober.

“I’m sorry. I should have woken you up, brought you clothes. I didn’t.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. My stomach clenches in confusion and my heart feels like it’s lifting… with what, hope? Something else? “Go get dressed. Falc will wait, and you can meet him properly.

“Bagels,” Falc says, his voice tight. I chew on my lower lip for a moment then nod.

“Apology not yet accepted,” I say.

“I’m good with that,” Hadrion replies, and then gives me a soft push toward the guest room door. “Go.”

I shoot a look over my shoulder as I go, only to see Falc staring hard at Hadrion, and Hadrion watching me.

Well… well, okay then. I guess I’m getting dressed. And then we’re talking. I take the time to wash up with a cloth and brush my teeth, pulling on some of the least expensive and most normal-looking clothing from the closest before I emerge.

Falc is gone, which I’m sort of okay with. That was an uncomfortable first meeting with a strange man. The last two days have apparently all been about strange meetings with strange men. Hadrion is in the kitchen area, pouring water into a mug.

“Tea?” he asks, and when I get close, the scent of lemon curls up to greet me. My favorite. “Honey?” He pushes a small pot with a wooden spoon sticking out of it toward me. I pause, before reaching for both the mug and the pot.

“This doesn’t get you off my shit list,” I say, feeling like my heart is going to pound right out of my chest. “That wasn’t okay. How you talked about me. I don’t care about how you might have talked about other girls, maybe they were alright with it, but I’m not. Okay with it, I mean.” I spoon some honey into the mug and he clears his throat.

“Well… first off, there’s no other girls,” he says and I freeze, honey dripping off the spoon. My eyes rise up to meet his. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s hesitant, almost like he’s not sure how I’m going to react to this revelation, and if I’m even going to be okay with it.

“Oh, wow, well, uh, I don’t know what to say to that,” I mumble and set the spoon down on the counter, sticky mess be damned. I sip my tea, deep, and can’t look at him in the face. Is he lying? He seemed to know what he was doing last night. He can’t be serious. I want to tell him. I shouldn’t. I’m on a knife-edge. I barely know him but —

“Me too,” I say, and set my mug down, gathering all my courage so I can look him directly.

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