Page 28 of Feathers From the Sky

I’m still looking at the ground where I draw with my stick as Roman moves behind me and places his hands on my hips. I think it’s my favorite way he’s touched me so far—which is saying something. He makes me feel small and delicate with the way his big hands hold me.

“What about you? What field do you work in? Maybe I can help you find something,” he offers. Truthfully, the loss is a blessing.

“I was doing data entry, though, nothing important. My degree is generic—organizational leadership.” I shrug and turn in his hands. “I don’t know what I want to do. Real estate is actually interesting to me. Maybe I’ll become a real estate king like your father,” I say, grinning up at him.

Roman huffs a soft laugh, warm, minty breath washing over my face. I wonder if he uses his mints in place of another bad habit.

“You don’t wanna be like him, Gwyn. You like having a soul, don’t you?” he asks, and his eyes dart to my lips for a second before he releases me.

As I take a step back, the trees a quarter mile ahead explode in a cacophony of screeches and flapping wings, and dozens of birds take flight. Roman spins, surprised, and peers through the trees to see what might have startled them.

“Do you see a bear?” I ask. It’s not cold enough for them to hibernate yet, and I’ve seen droppings during our walk. It doesn’t surprise me considering this trail is closed, but now I wonder if one is nearby. With Roman being the giant he is, he’ll easily scare any away, but still; I have some sense of self-preservation.

“No,” he says, slowly stepping back to stand in front of me, almost as if he’s protecting me. “Let’s go though.”

I nod, leading him back the way we came.

As we approach where the trail splits, I walk quicker, beating Roman to the giant branch which had fallen over the path before our little adventure. Walking up the length of the wood, I pantomime like it’s a balance beam even though it’s less than a foot off the ground. I feel stupid when I get to the end, and the thinning branch snaps just as Roman approaches. My hand shoots out, and I catch myself against a tree on the side of the path.

Roman is beside me in an instant, far faster than he has any right to be, and he’s grabbing my hand and examining it before I even have a chance to. “I’m fine,” I say, breathless from laughing at myself.

He picks the smallest pieces of tree bark from my hand, and I notice my skin is peeled up a bit. Not bad, the smallest bead of blood surfaces at the cut.

“You’re bleeding.” He seems annoyed as he frowns at me.

“It’s alright. Don’t look.” When he doesn’t move, his eyes darting over my shoulder for a second, I attempt to pull my hand free from his. “I have a first aid kit in the car. I’ll be fine.”

“You need to be more careful, Gwyn,” he replies, voice softer than a moment before. There’s a shift in his demeanor, his posture pulled taut. Even though I don’t think balancing on a log is the worst thing I’ve done, the words feel like they have more weight.

The past year, I’ve been a risk taker, and I don’t want to heed his advice. First my parents, then my best friend and boyfriend—I’ve lost vital parts of me that adrenaline chasing helps me not think about. It’s why I fly down the highway with the windows down. It’s why I sleep around. It’s why I agreed to a photo shoot with a stranger.

Roman is still holding my hand and looking at me with eyes growing darker the longer he stares down at me.

“If I listened to you,” I whisper, “we wouldn’t be here now.”

He pulls my hand to his mouth, and my eyes widen as he kisses my palm. “You think I’m dangerous, sweetheart?” he asks as his lips press against my injured skin.

“Iknowyou’re dangerous,” I say. “I’m entertaining things with you that I—that I haven’t—that I shouldn’t—”

He laughs, low, and it’s a cold trickle of ice down my spine despite the warmth of his hand holding mine. “I’m dangerous because of how much you want me,” he says, and even though it’s not a question, I answer it. There’s no way he doesn’t know how far my attraction to him goes. Too far.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He huffs a laugh. “You think that doesn’t go both ways, Gwyn? I promise you, you’re more dangerous to me than I am to you.” He shakes his head and lets go of my hand. “The only reason I haven’t shoved you to your knees in the mud and fucked you senseless is because I asked for three dates. Remember?”

My breath catches, and I nod. His eyes dart all over my face, and I don’t know what he’s looking for.

“I told you after three dates, you could run if you wanted to. And I’m telling you now, this date is over. It’s your last chance to escape me unscathed,” he says, and it sounds like a plea. As if he wants me to leave, as if I’m hurting him by wanting him.

“What if I want to run?” I ask, holding my breath as his jaw clenches and I see his temple twitch.

“Then—”

“And what if I want you to catch me?”

Silent for only a moment, the sound he makes is a collision as it tears up his throat. He is panting, but he snaps his mouth shut as if he’s in pain. Roman glances over his shoulder before turning to face me.

“Run,” he orders, but I’m already moving.

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