seul’s Reviews > Nightshade > Status Update

"Smoking raises your blood pressure," I whisper, my voice more hoarse than it should be. It's a stupid comment, a feeble attempt at dissolving the tension between us, at getting back into the familiar hatred and out of whatever this is.

His grip on my waist doesn't loosen, the heat of his large hand scorching through my hoodie. "You raise my blood pressure."

"How?"

My next step falters, heel catching in the mud behind me. I fall, but I don't hit the ground. One tattooed arm wraps around my waist, strong and warm.

Alex gazes down at me, the cherry of the cigarette glowing as he takes another drag.

Everything about him makes my heart run faster. Pacing toward me, he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, like he's burning up even in the autumn chill. "What did you want in his office?" I'd never tell you. "It doesn't matter."

"Matters to me."

"Shame."

He takes a step forward. "Don't make me chase you."

I take a step back. "I have stamina."

"I'd rather find that out a different way."

Stupid, ginger pigeon.

It's the worst way a man has ever described me, and yet I've never felt so seen.

The devastating curves of his lips form a smile of their own, but beneath his black lashes his eyes are clouded with that omnipresent darkness that seems to follow him around.

"I'd leave that stupid, ginger pigeon on the rainy path outside the university gates."

I don't know if it's the video, the cocktails, or the fact that don't feel so insecure in his company, but my lips press into a reluctant smile as I look back over my shoulder. We're almost nose to nose. "What about the pigeon that would pee in your cup holder?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning your standards are on the foor. If he asked you to split the bill fifty-fifty you'd thank him for paying his half."

"No, I wouldn’t." I frown at him, eyes flicking up to the bleeding gash above his eyebrow.

He sticks out his bottom lip, tone dripping in dry humor Th that it's endearing. "It hurts."

"Not more than the silver spoon stuck up your ass, surely."

"Maybe even a little bit more."

"What the fuck, Ophelia?" snaps Alex the second he's out of earshot.

"He's nice to me. He asks me about my day."

"Jesus fucking Christ, you're worse than my sister," he mutters under his breath. His exasperated sigh contracts the broad chest muscles beneath his wet rugby shirt.

Not that I notice.

A gray workout top hugs the contours of his torso, his hair damp from a shower.

I don't think I've ever seen someone quite so striking.

Even through my blurry screen, I get the same odd feeling about him as I did that first day in the car. On the surface, he looks dangerously attractive. But he seems boring. A man without feelings, goals, direction, or passion.

I am joining the call; my laptop is just having a moment.

Ophelia

No problem.

It always helps to lift the lid and turn the laptop on.
-ACG

"Fuck you," I mutter, finally logging on. I panic-clean my greasy webcam, dusting the shortbread crumbs from the keyboard.