Embracing The Danger

Sienna

"It didn't look this far from there," I whispered as he led me toward the lake. Suddenly the distance seemed immense — strange, because from where we'd stood it had looked only a few steps away, as if the water were coaxing us closer. Wasn't this a weird illusion?

"Places like this are confusing, Flower." He laughed softly, steadying me when I nearly slipped on a loose stone. There were too many stones here, jutting like little teeth from the earth.

"Why so many rocks? I don't get it!" I asked, blinking at them.

"Wish rocks," he said, taking both my hands to help me over the uneven ground. It would've been easy to fall without him, though I kept pretending I didn't need the help. "There used to be houses here. A tribe lived around the lake before they eventually moved away. They believed the water granted wishes, probably still do no matter wherever they are— so they'd write them down, tuck them under a rock, sometimes throw them into the lake."

"That's...fascinating." I wanted the whole story in one breath. "Why did they leave? When?"

"Maybe a decade ago." We reached the water and I saw the benches dotted along the shore — nicer than it had looked from a distance. "They thought the lake would never die. There was a man, Jordan. He was from the tribe—he was maybe sixty years old at that time and I was eight if I remember correctly," he shrugged, "He told me the stories when I used to come with..."—he paused, an unmeasurable pause—"family." The word tasted bitter on his tongue. I didn't press.

It felt right to let it go and I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I had suddenly started caring about his comfort.

"Did you stop coming here?" I asked, cautious.

He drew his jacket tighter and watched the lake. "You could say that," he said finally. The place held something for him; grief, maybe, or memory. "It was necessary."

"You miss him? Jordan?"

He chuckled, soft but closed. "I don't miss anyone, Flower." He sat on a bench and put his hand along the backrest. "I'm not made that way."

"What are you, a robot?" I slid beside him. "Stop pretending you're steel. No one's watching."

"You are." He looked at me like it was fact.

"I'm harmless. I probably couldn't hurt you even if I tried." I tried to make my voice light. "Look at me — I can't even fight you off."

A small laugh escaped him before he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The contact sent a shiver down my spine, the wind brushing us both. "You think you're harmless," he murmured, voice low enough only I could hear, "but you have the power to hurt more than anyone or anything in this world. You just don't know it yet and I hope you don't anytime soon."

I understood and I didn't. His words landed somewhere inside me and stayed.

I held my breath, unable to look away or form a reply. He must have read whatever conflict flitted across my face, because he spoke again, lighter now, almost teasing: "So — what's your grand revenge plan for your ex?"

"Excuse me." I shifted, frowning despite the echo of his last sentence. "That's none of your business."

"Maybe you don't know," he said, amusement threading his tone, "but everything about you has always been my business."

I tried not to let the words dig under my skin, but they did. They made sense — disturbingly so.

From high school to college to now, Alex had been...there. In front of the lockers whether with a sidepiece or not , in classrooms staring at me from afar, in the small humiliations and the worst nights. He'd been a constant presence: a shadow at my shoulder I tried to shake off, the one who taunted me when I chose badly, the one who suddenly turned up when I was at my lowest.

Alexander Grayson had always been there. Is there. Probably always will be.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" I snapped, cutting through the memory before it swallowed me.

"I've been called worse. This isn't one of them."

"Then add this to the list."

"Declined."

This man—

I wanted to curse, to spit something sharp, but instead I caught myself laughing. That was when I knew: maybe I was already fucked.

Because laughing at him? Definitely not a good sign.

"You are an...idiot." The word felt ridiculous—"asshole" seemed too easy tonight—maybe I'd save it for tomorrow.

"Finally dropped the 'A' word?" He smirked, leaning in until his breath ghosted my face, noticing the one thing I hope he didn't, "Careful, Sienna. You might be growing soft for me." His words brushed my lips and everything inside me went desert-dry and loud; my head started whispering the wrong things. Very wrong things.

"You really are an ass, Alex." I muttered and rose, but he caught my hand before I could go. The touch sparked something under my skin and slowly it spread everywhere on my body. Deep within my core.

Funny how a simple touch could affect so much and years spent with one person with so much memory, sparked nothing even close. Yes, I was talking about my years wasted on Ryatt. All the things we'd been through—could never even come close to one touch of Alex. The feeling he evoked with his skin on mine.

"There's a house if you follow that path for half a kilometer." He nodded toward the trail by the lake. "Wanna see it?"

"We can't just barge into someone's house."

"Wanna see it or not, Flower?"

I licked my lips, weighing the sensible voice against the one that craved any small adventure. Risk sounded like a promise. Maybe worth it.

"Okay. Let's do this."

A grin spread across his face—danger personified—and I was already stepping toward the storm. Saying yes felt wickedly, stupidly alive.