Page 69 of Kisses and Paperclips

Then…

he turned.

Didn’t make a scene.

Just walked away the way only he could, unbothered on the outside, like he hadn’t just handed me something breakable and watched me drop it.

Women smiled like they’d been waiting for him to look their way.

He sat at a table across the room, arm slung low over the back of his chair, the picture of ease.

Laughing at something the man beside him said.

Not once did he look my way.

Didn’t steal a glance.

Didn’t check to see if I was watching him—though I was.

Of course I was.

His white dress shirt clung to him in all the places it shouldn’t have.

It stretched just slightly across his chest and shoulders, pulling at the seams every time he leaned back and laughed.

Effortless strength, cloaked in tailored restraint.

The fabric loosened over his stomach, teasing the lines I knew were there…defined, and disciplined.

My mind drifted before I could stop it.

Sweatpants hanging low on his hips, chest bare and slick with effort. Muscles flexing as he moved, the slow, rhythm of a man who knew his own power and didn’t need to prove it.

I should’ve looked away.

But I didn’t.

Because there was something about the way he refused to see me, how he didn’t even flinch in my direction. That made me burn hotter than if he had.

And I just stood there.

Holding the weight of all the things I didn’t say.

At the bottom of my drink, a single cherry floated like a warning.

Sweet, overripe, and sinking.

Nia appeared beside me like she’d been summoned by my silence. Her voice brushed my ear.

“What happened?”

I swallowed hard.

“I think,” I said quietly, “I let the taste of me get sour in his mouth.”

Nia didn’t said a word.

I raised the glass, drank the rest, then slowly bit into the cherry between my teeth.

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