Page 93 of All Twerk, No Play

She shivered, like acknowledging the truth molted her top layer of skin … revealing the face of a person who’d been holding herself together for a long time with no one to catch her if she cracked.

My hand drifted up, fingers brushing the curve of her jaw. She leaned into the touch, her breath warm against my palm.

I knew if I leaned in, she wouldn't resist. One kiss and she’d melt. She’d let me carry her to the bed and touch her until her mind went blank …

But it wouldn't be fair, not like this. Not when she was raw, her wounds flailed open and bleeding.

Not when she was already the exception to every rule I’d ever made.

I cleared my throat and stepped back, fighting the impulse to touch her. “We should probably get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

Her brows pulled slightly, a flicker of disappointment. But she didn’t argue.

“Right,” she murmured, dipping her chin at the couch. “Nixon himself may have drooled on that. So maybe you should just sleep in the bed.”

I nodded in agreement, climbing beneath the duvet. She turned off the lamp, plunging the room into near darkness, and I stared at the shadows on the vaulted ceiling.

“Eric?” she whispered into the air above us, crackling with exhaustion and expectation. She turned on her side to face me, tucking her hands underneath the pillow. “Thanks. For listening.”

I nodded into the darkness. “Always.”

"Burning," Maggie Rogers

Victoria

Ameltingsnowflakeclungto Alexander’s trousers, and I stared as it descended to the floor. My bare shoulders shivered against the walnut pew, but I wouldn’t hide this incredible black Armani one-shoulder gown, even if this church was freezing.

“He traded the old one in for a newer model,” an elderly woman hissed behind us. I ignored her, admiring the First Presbyterian’s Gothic architecture. Fourteen years ago, the Inwood marble floor felt like a solid foundation for the promises eager to burst off my tongue. Now I fixated on the gray veins, silently wishing that they would crack apart and the church would swallow me whole.

“Do you take this woman …” the pastor intoned.

When I couldn’t avoid it any longer, I watched the man I once loved promise his future to that ‘newer model’: Rebekkah. Six years my junior, she glowed in an ivory satin Vera Wang mermaid dress. Even in embellished Manolo slingbacks, her chin tilted up at him in adoration—he must have loved that, after convincing me to wear flats to our wedding.

I uncrossed my ankles to press my black Prada stiletto heel against the floor, brushing the pointy toebox against Alexander’s wingtip.

“And she brought him instead of his brother,” hissed another woman behind us. “It’s like being promised a Hemsworth and getting Liam instead of Chris.”

Alexander turned to glare at the women gossiping during the vows. I gripped just above his right knee to squeeze a warning: 'Don’t engage.' He stilled, focusing on my left hand on his thigh. His hand shifted to rest over mine.

“… as long as you both shall live?”

Fourteen years ago, he hadn’t hesitated. The pastor hadn’t finished the question before he was blurting out his joyful assent.

This time, after a shaky inhale I wished I didn't notice, he sounded bored. “I do.”

Alexander’s thumb ghosted over my ring finger. The caress felt stifling. I slid my hand away to interlace my fingers in my lap.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Spencer pulled his new bride close as those green eyes shifted. His mouth may have been touching hers, but his eyes were locked on mine.

I awoke gasping, tangled in Egyptian cotton sheets. Eric’s empty pillow held a note:Out for a run. After last night, I didn’t blame him for running. I’d run from myself too, if I could.

A hot shower scalded away Spencer's phantom touch but I couldn’t scrub off his whispered promise:I never stopped loving you. And I couldn’t stop my dreams from retreading memories I’d rather forget.

I steeled myself against the day ahead by making myself look as invincible as I wished I could feel, wrapping myself in a robe at the vanity and applying foundation like cosmetic armor.

Eric walked in, sunlit and sweaty, and my mouth watered at the sight before I noticed the plate and mug he held up with a cautious smile.

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