Page 44 of Falling Off Script

Slow.

Unhurried.

Hungry.

“I have to admit,” he says quietly, “you’re very convincing.”

I swallow. “Convincing?”

He steps forward.

One breath.

Two.

I don’t back away.

“You planned all this,” he murmurs. “The dress. The voice. The persona.”

I say nothing.

Because somehow, it doesn’t feel like a trap anymore. It feels like gravity has shifted and I’m floating. Toward something I can’t name.

“But next time...” he says, voice brushing my skin like a secret.

He leans in.

Close enough to feel the warmth of his words.

“...just ask.”

A beat.

Then, softer—almost smiling:

“Emily.”

My breath catches.

And everything—

Goes dark.

I jolt awake. Alone. Blankets tangled. Skin flushed. A strange ache in my chest, like I’ve just missed a train I didn’t know I wanted to catch.

The laptop beside me is still open, screen dimmed. One headphone has fallen out. The video has auto-rolled to another Adrian Zayne monologue.

I stare at the ceiling.

Seriously?

Because of course. Of course it ends right there.

Not even a kiss. JustNext time, ask.

I flop back, shove a pillow over my face, and curse my subconscious for having better game than me.

20. Adrian

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