Page 88 of Doesn't Count

“The limo is outside waiting to take us to the city. Are you ready for New York?” He asks.

I nod, shoving down my recent conversation with Blane, swallowing it like accidental vomit. The taste is bitter and burns like acid.

We haven’t talked about last night, the things that he confessed. Even though it haunts me, weighs me down, I still can’t help but see the boy he was. Innocent, scared, lonely, hungry. He was the victim. When I look at him now, I don’t see all the things he’s done, I see Khaos. I see a broody man with demons that sometimes get the better of him. I see a desperation for connection, for trust, for someone to rely on unconditionally.

Khaos pulls me into him, breaking me from my train of thought. With a rough kiss to my neck before tugging his mask back up over his nose, he ushers me out of the bus.

Khaos

The week spent in the Big Apple is exhausting with touring the city all day and our concerts at night, but the awe on Ash’s face is something I’ll never grow tired of. It’s really the only thing keeping me going because New York isn’t much different than Chicago, other than it not being home.

With it being our last day here before we break for the holidays, there is one more thing I want to show Ash. As we sit in the Uber, spiked hot chocolate in hand, I study her. The white winter hat sits snug on her head, her blonde tendrils tucked beneath her black puffer jacket. Even though it’s warm in this car, her nose and cheeks are still kissed by the frigid air, painting her face a light pink like a permanent blush.

I can already feel the hole in my chest from the anticipation of leaving her for the next three weeks. The thought panic inducing. I’ve grown accustomed to having her around again, sometimes feeling like no time has passed between us.

“Ugh, I swear to God, if you’re taking me ice skating, I’m going to puke. I know I’ve done pretty much every cliché thingthere is to do here, but I refuse to do that. Especially with you.” She scoffs, yanking me back to reality.

“Damn. I should probably tell the driver to turn around now.” I groan.

She slaps my chest with the back of her hand. “Stop. Seriously?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to do the most romantic thing in New York with me?”

She makes a gagging noise, pointing her gloved finger down her throat.

“Note taken. She doesn’t like romance.” I grumble, smirking beneath my mask.

“I like romance!” She argues. “You just don’t seem the type.”

I snort, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The Uber pulls over at Rockefeller Plaza and we climb out onto the sidewalk. I yank on her hand, pulling her closer to the enormous, brightly lit tree. It towers over the city, patrons crowding around to admire the magnificent reminder that it’s the best time of the year. As Ash stands astounded, her gaze glued to the ultimate Christmas emblem, my eyes are stuck on her. I study the way the lights twinkle in her eyes, the fascination radiating from them.

“This is insane!” She breathes, a cloud forming in the air at her words.

“This is my favorite thing about New York.”

“I can see why.” She smiles at me before taking her eyes back to the tree.

All I Want for Christmasis playing from the ice rink speakers below us, the words never ringing truer. I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her to me as she sips her drink, completely content. We don’t pay any attention to the swarm ofbodies pushing past us in every direction, we just stay like this savoring the moment.

“So... I’m not the romantic type?” I tease.

She shrugs, “I’m just glad you didn’t take me ice skating.”

I pull her over to the staircase on our right so she can get a good view of the rink below us.

“There’s still time.” I tease.

She rolls her eyes, “In your dreams.”

Her denial is met with a contradicting smile, once again telling me everything I need to know. She loves this and somewhere deep down inside of her, she loves me. I just need to get her to acknowledge it.

Leaning back, I rest against the railing, pulling her into me.

“What are you doing for the holiday break?” She asks, nuzzling into my arms.

“Probably going home with Hypnos.” I shrug. “You?”

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