Page 102 of Before Dawn

And utterly, devastatingly distracting.

Because somewhere along the way, without meaning to, I had fallen into something deeper than I ever expected.

And God, I was in trouble.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice cut through my thoughts, teasing and low, and I felt my face heat as his lips curved into a smirk.

“Just making sure you’re doing it right.”

He chuckled, standing to test the lock. “Am I doing it right?”

I nodded absentmindedly. “You’re doing it perfectly.”

I bit my lip, caught between a sharp reply and the flutter in my stomach. Tattoos had never tempted me before, but on him, they were dangerous, begging to be traced with my fingers. Or my lips. God help me.

Days of staying in, organizing, and Facetiming him soon turned into cozy nights on the couch—movies playing softly, his arm draped over my shoulders, our legs tangled like perfect puzzle pieces. He’d steal featherlight kisses, each touch igniting a slow-burning fire. He knew my quirks—showing up with barbecue Lay’s, Chipotle, or chocolate cake—and cherished even the smallest gestures, like my hand on his back, drawing a contented sigh as the world faded away.

Lost in the comfort of those memories, I barely registered the time. A refreshing shower later, I slipped into my favorite flowy sundress and headed downstairs where he was waiting for me.

I was breathless as his cologne hit me first, my gaze drifting over his linen white shirt and matching pants, the erudite charm of his glasses adding to his rugged appeal.

“Hey,” I greeted, warmth flooding me at the sight of him.

“Morning, Red,” he rumbled, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. “Ready to go?”

I nodded, sliding into the car as nerves fluttered in my stomach.

“You excited?” He shot me a teasing grin.

“I am!” I squealed. “I’ve never been to Coney Island.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ll never want to leave once you’re there.”

The drive was full of laughter and easy conversation, our excitement building with each passing mile. As we arrived, the buzz of carnival rides and the salty ocean breeze wrapped around us. Colorful banners flutteredoverhead, and the sweet scent of cotton candy and popcorn filled the air, instantly reminding me of Pier 39.

“These lights are beautiful,” I murmured, eyes wide with wonder.

When I turned to him, I caught him staring—not at the lights, but at me. My breath hitched, warmth rushing to my cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now. “Beautiful.”

Our first stop was the Wonder Wheel, its towering frame glowing against the night sky.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, flashing a grin as we climbed into one of the swinging gondolas.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, trying to sound brave, though my stomach was already fluttering.

The wheel lifted us higher, the boardwalk stretching beneath us like a sea of neon stars. The city skyline glittered in the distance, and for a moment, everything felt weightless.

“Look at that view,” I murmured, nodding toward the horizon.

He hummed, but when I turned, his gaze wasn’t on the skyline—it was on me.

“Mine’s better.”

“Oh yeah?” I arched my brow. “What’s yours?”

His lips curved, eyes steady. “You.”

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