Who do you call when you get a sketchy text? Who else, you tech genius friend of course. She'll companies? Laundering money? Alan’s, or is it Dorian, Dad is getting sketchier by the second.
I hadn’t meant for it to happen like that.There had been no plan. There was no checklist, candles, flowers, or whispered declarations of love—just us. His hands on my skin made me feel like I wasn’t something fragile but something real.And now, I was curled against him in the dim glow of his studio apartment, his chest rising and falling under my cheek. My body ached in new places. My mind was soft with static, like I’d been rewired and couldn’t figure out where the old pieces fit anymore.So, this was what it felt like. To lose something and gain something all in the same breath.I hadn’t told him it was my first time. Not because I was hiding it—just… it didn’t feel like something I needed to say out loud. He had been gentle. Patient. Like he knew. Maybe he had. Either way, I’m glad he was gentle. It might not have been the fantasy the first time. I could’ve done without knocking over the folding screen and getting tangled in our clothes. But those moments made it real. I wouldn’t
All we could do now was wait.Makayla was working—scrubbing our trail, locking down every unsecured line, spinning countermeasures I couldn’t even pretend to understand—but it still felt like time had ground to a halt. Everything inside me buzzed like a wire stretched too tight, humming with tension and nowhere to discharge it.I was pacing. Not fast, not obvious. Just slow, looping steps between the bed and the kitchenette. Forward, turn, back again. I hadn’t even noticed I was doing it until Rufio gave a low huff, and Amaya said, “Do you always pace like that when you’re stressed?”I stopped mid-step, blinking at her like I’d been snapped out of a fog. “Was I?”She smiled faintly, arms folded across her chest as she leaned against the wall. “You’ve done three laps around the around the apartment from what I assume is your bed behind the folding screen and the kitchen, always avoiding the cracked tile. It’s impressive. You’re like a dog circling the a tree looking for a place to piss
“Amaya. Go.”The words cracked like a whip through the room, sharp and commanding, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I was too busy staring at Alan, or I guess Dorian, because that was his real name, wasn’t it? Dorian Lorenzetti. Nope, I’ll keep calling and thinking of him as Alan because THAT is who he is to me. Dorian Lorenzetti is a stranger. Alan Chambers is the man I’ve had a crush on since I met him and the more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I’ve fallen for him.I watched as something inside him broke wide open. It was the sort of fear you experienced for another person when you knew you couldn’t control what happened next.I slowly stood up from the sofa, my heart hammering in my ears. Rufio stood by the window, his deep rumble gathering in his throat, his entire body leaning forward in expectation. The air was so tense that I couldn’t help but think I was trudging through water. Alan was a ball of tension, his shoulders hunched over, his entire body clenched to fight.“No.” I
“My name is Dorian Lorenzetti.”The moment he said it, everything in the room stilled. Not the city outside—cars still honked, someone shouted down the block, a dog barked back—but inside our apartment, it felt like the air had stopped moving.I didn’t know the weight of the name. But I knew its weight on him. I’d felt it in how he touched me before walking away last night. I’d heard it in his silence. In every heartbeat, he tried to hide from Amaya. And now, finally, he’d let the word go.Dorian.I shifted closer to his leg, just enough so he’d know I was there, still supporting him. Still watching and still waiting for what came next.Amaya didn’t speak right away. She stood at the center of his little apartment like she’d carved out her space there on sheer will alone, eyes locked on him, shoulders high with tension that hadn’t let up since we left the dorm.“Okay,” she said. Just one word. But her voice didn’t crack and she didn’t run.Alan looked at her momentarily before steppin
Rufio climbed into bed with me in the middle of the night, seeking comfort. I was too tired or emotionally exhausted to say anything about it. Not that I’d have said anything if I wasn’t. I may have been half asleep but I was aware enough to hear his low whimper before I felt paws scrambling over to the bed, and then the gentle pressure of him curling up alongside me seeking comfort from his fears and worries. The same fears and worries I had.When I woke from my restless sleep, I had his head on my leg, his eyes open wide, fixed on the door as though waiting for somebody to enter. When I stirred, he emitted a low, mournful whine that resonated deep within him. My heart broke at the sound, a fine shard of pain slicing through the morning quiet. As much as I was worried about where Alan could be and what could be happening that he’d leave Rufio here, Rufio was feeling it worse."Oh, Rufio," I whispered, rubbing the dense, warm fur at the base of his ears to soothe him. "I know. I’m wor
Leaving Rufio was the hardest part.He looked up at me like he knew, big eyes full of confusion and something dangerously close to trust I didn’t deserve. I gave his head one last rub, my fingers lingering behind his ears.“Be good for her,” I murmured, voice low. “You always were the smart one.”Delilah answered the door—half-asleep, confused, but too polite to stop me when I asked if Rufio could stay the night.“She’ll be back soon,” she said, blinking. “You okay?”I handed her the note I’d already written—three words that didn’t say nearly enough.Watch him tonight.Then I turned and walked away without answering. Because if I had looked back at Rufio, the building, the life I almost let myself have—I might not have gone through with it. But I had to because someone had left a threat on my doorstep. And I knew exactly where to start.The black car had been parked on the edge of the Grove three times in the last week. Same plate. Same tinted windows. I’d memorized every detail. I fo
I was lying on my bed with my laptop open and untouched beside me, my fingers absentmindedly twisting the drawstring of my hoodie, when my phone buzzed.I didn’t even pretend not to pounce for it.Alan Chambers: Need an extra set of hands for your park walk? Rufio insists I attend.Alan Chambers: And I want to.I stared at the message for five seconds before a stupid smile spread across my face. I read it again. Then, once more.Rufio insists. And I want to.It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t an apology. But it was something. Something more than the suffocating silence. Something tangible I could cradle in my thoughts.I didn't realize how much I needed to hear from him till that pesky tightness in my chest disappeared and I could finally breathe again. I rolled onto one side and clutched at my pillow, holding it as if it were my lifeline, as if it were him. Burrowing into its fluffiness, I couldn't help but smile, remembering back in middle school and getting all sappy over an older s
I should’ve kissed her. That was my first thought when she walked away from the bench—Rufio watching her like he couldn’t decide whether to follow or nudge me into motion myself. And maybe I would’ve kissed her if it hadn’t been for Snickerdoodle and his Yankees jersey. That was New York for you. One minute, the world narrows to a girl beside you and the warmth of her fingers brushing yours on a park bench. The next, a stranger yells, “Get your tiny butt back here!” and the moment is gone, replaced by a chihuahua on the run and a laugh caught in the back of your throat. But it wasn’t just the interruption that stopped me. It was fear. The kind that had been baked into my bones since I walked away from the Lorenzetti name. Since the day I buried my mother, I decided I didn’t want the ghost of that oppressive and dangerous life hanging over me anymore. Amaya didn’t know who I really was. And yet… she kept choosing to be here. With me. Around me. Even now. I was a shadow with a sto
“This isn’t just about the trees,” I said, setting my coffee down with too much force. “It’s about the neighborhood. The history. The people who use that park. Marigold Grove deserves better than being flattened for rich people and rooftop pools.”Xenia gave me a patient smile. “Love the passion, baby sis, but just tell me—are you planning to get arrested?”“Not intentionally,” I muttered.Reese arched a perfectly groomed brow over her chai. “That’s not the answer a lawyer wants to hear.”“She’s not planning to chain herself to a bulldozer,” Lilac cut in, flipping through a sketchbook while sipping a macadamia milk cortado. “But if she does, I’ve got contacts who can walk her through it.”Xenia groaned. “Lilac, no.”We were seated around a small bistro table at a tucked-away café in Alphabet City, where the chairs didn’t match, and everything looked like it had been artfully distressed on purpose. I’d brought my tablet with the current protest walk outline and an early version of the e