CHAPTER 4: Hot and Cold

Adrian's hands were large and hot, anchoring me against the glass door while he kissed me like he was trying to swallow my breath. I let out a low moan against his lips.

Every part of me felt wired and sensitive. The calloused texture of his palms against my waist sent a jolt through my spine that made my knees weak. I pulled him closer, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, desperate to close every space between us.

He tasted like the dark and rain. It wasn't the sweet, careful version of Adrian I had built in my mind. This was raw. His chest pressed into mine and I could feel the thud of his heart matching the frantic rhythm of my own.

I whimpered when his teeth grazed my bottom lip. I was lightheaded, my head tilted back as he moved his mouth down to the skin of my throat.

"Adrian," I breathed.

I wanted him to keep going. I wanted him to erase the scorched rose and the sound of my mother's voice. I wanted him to be the man from the phone and the man in front of me at the same time. His breath was hot against my ear, and for a second his grip tightened, his fingers digging into my hips.

Then he stopped.

It wasn't a slow fade. He yanked himself back so suddenly I almost stumbled forward. The air between us felt freezing the moment contact broke.

He was breathing hard, his hair mussed, his eyes dark with a frustration that looked like pain.

"No," he said, his voice a jagged wreck. "This is wrong."

"What? Adrian, what are you talking about?"

"Go to your room, Nirvana." He wouldn't look at me. He was staring at the crushed note on the floor. "Go to your room and lock the door."

"You just.. we just–"

"I said go!" He turned his back to me, his shoulders rigid. "I shouldn't have touched you. It's a mistake. Forget it ever happened."

It felt like a slap.

The heat humming through my veins turned into a cold, hollow ache.

I didn't say another word. I turned and ran down the hall, slammed my bedroom door. I turned the lock and leaned my back against the wood.

I waited for a knock. An apology. Anything. The only sound that came was the thud of the front door closing a few minutes later.

He had left.

I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. The rejection stung worse than anything my mother had ever said to me. I felt humiliated. I had practically thrown myself at him and he had looked at me like I was a problem he needed to get rid of.

Was it because of Ronan? Did he think I was too young, too soft, just like he'd told my brother?

I cried until my eyes were puffy and my throat was sore. Ronan would lose his mind if he knew I was pining after his best friend. He would think I was being taken advantage of.

But the truth was, I was the one who wanted it. I fell asleep with the smell of Adrian's cologne still on my skin, feeling more alone in this massive penthouse than I ever had in New Orleans.

The next morning I sat up with a throbbing head. I spent a few seconds convincing myself the night before had been a nightmare. The black box, the scorched rose, the kiss. It all felt too intense to be real.

I washed my face and walked out into the main area.

Ronan and Adrian were at the dining table, hunched over a laptop with coffee and pastries between them. Their conversation stopped the moment I walked in.

"Morning, Nir." Ronan smiled. "How was your night?"

I looked at Adrian. Clean black t-shirt, leather vest draped over the chair behind him. He didn't look up from his coffee. Didn't acknowledge I had walked in at all.

"I slept fine," I lied, sitting across from Ronan.

"Good. I'm sorry I stayed out late, work got complicated." He pushed orange juice toward me. "We were just talking about your setup here. I know you lost your studio back home. I want to make sure you have everything you need."

I looked at the New York skyline through the window. A wall of steel. I thought about the note.

*Welcome to New York, Muse.*

If I stayed in this apartment painting in a room Ronan built for me, I was just moving from one cage to another. Still the soft girl Adrian looked down on.

"I don't want a studio, Ronan," I said quietly.

Both men looked at me. Adrian's eyes met mine for the first time and I saw a flicker of surprise before he masked it with cold indifference.

"Painting is your life, Nir," Ronan said.

"It was my life in New Orleans because I didn't have anything else." I felt a sudden spark of defiance rise in my chest. "I still want art, I still want to be that artist. But I want to go to college. I want to enroll here. I want to start over for real."

Ronan blinked. "College? Nirvana, it's the middle of the year. And with everything going on–"

"What is everything going on?" I looked between them. "You keep saying it's dangerous but you won't tell me why. You treat me like a child who can't handle the truth. I'm done being the girl who sits in a room and waits for permission to live."

Adrian set his coffee down with a deliberate click. "College is a life on its own. It's not something you rush into."

"I'm sure you're capable of watching a perimeter, Adrian," I said, throwing his own words back at him. "Since I'm such a liability anyway."

His jaw tightened. He knew exactly what I was referencing.

The air in the room pulled tight, the memory of last night hanging between us like something neither of us could name out loud.

Ronan looked between us, sensing the tension but unable to place it. "Nir, if this is what you want I can make it happen. I have connections at Rodrigo University. But you'd have to be careful and you'd have to listen to us."

"I can be careful. I just want my own life. I want to be more than a name on a phone or a girl in a penthouse."

Adrian stood up and grabbed his jacket. "Do whatever you want, Ronan. It's your sister. But if she's going to be out in the world she needs to know the rules. First rule, she doesn't talk to anyone we don't approve of."

He walked toward the door without a second glance.

"Where are you going?" Ronan called.

"To the garage. I need to clear my head."

The door thudded shut. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

A strange mix of triumph and misery settled over me. I was going to get my life back, but the man I wanted it with was doing everything in his power to stay away from me.

Ronan took my hand. "Are you sure about this? It's a big jump."

"I'm sure. I need to be my own person. I can't keep living in the shadows of the men in my life."

He sighed and nodded. "Okay. I'll call the Dean today. But promise me one thing. If things feel off, if you see anything like that rose again, you tell me immediately. No secrets."

"I promise," I said, and felt a pang of guilt the moment the words left my mouth.

I was already keeping one.

I went back to my room and opened course catalogs, trying to focus. But my eyes kept drifting to the window. Below, the roar of a motorcycle cut through the city noise. I watched a dark figure on a bike speed away from the building, weaving through traffic like he had something to outrun.

I was done being the soft girl who waited.

He was going to find that out soon enough.