Page 50 of Sticks & Serpents

Andrew drove me home, the gentle hum of his car easing the tension that had coiled around my heart since stepping into the Sinclaire estate. I should’ve felt guilty for leaving my car behind, but I pushed those thoughts aside. My father wouldn’t be home, and I welcomed the idea of escaping into a quiet space where I could breathe without the suffocating weight of Damien’s presence looming over me.

Andrew was nice—too nice, perhaps. He offered easy laughter and charming compliments that made me feel light. As we cruised through the streets, I caught myself stealing glances at him, appreciating the way he focused on the road with a casual confidence that made it easy to forget everything else. It was almost comforting, knowing he didn’t carry any of my history.

But then again, none of it mattered if it meant forgetting Damien.

As we parked outside the house, a surge of determination washed over me. The moment Andrew opened his door and stepped out, I felt a fire igniting within me—a fierce desire to erase every trace of Damien from my mind and body. Without thinking twice, I leaned in as soon as he approached me, our lips crashing together before we even made it inside.

His hands found their way to my waist as we stumbled backward through the door, urgency guiding us like a wild dance. The kiss was electric—raw and desperate—as if I could physically chase away the ghost of Damien that still clung to my skin like an unwanted shadow.

I melted against Andrew, letting myself get lost in this new moment while pushing thoughts of Damien aside. Our mouths moved in sync, heat building between us as hands roamed over clothes that felt foreign compared to what had been mine for so long.

With every kiss, every brush of skin against skin, I tried to bury the memories of how Damien’s touch had felt—possessive and fierce—fighting against the tide of emotion that threatened to pull me back under.

It felt easy.

Normal.

Andrew’s lips pressed against mine, soft and inviting. The kiss deepened as he pressed me against the wall of the house, his body molding to mine with a warmth that was meant to feel comforting. I tried to focus on the moment, on him—the way his hands tangled in my hair, how his breath tasted sweet like the whiskey I had drunk earlier.

But with every heartbeat, the nagging thought crept in.

Not Damien.

Not how much this wasn’t him.

Andrew’s kisses were gentle but firm, a stark contrast to the chaotic fire that ignited within me whenever I thought of Damien. There was no edge, no rawness; just a simple connection that felt almost too perfect. And yet… something inside me revolted against it.

As he tilted my head back slightly, deepening the kiss, I felt the weight of that rebellion clawing at my chest. I hated every second of this because while Andrew was everything I thought I wanted—safe and sweet—my heart kept drifting toward the stormy chaos of Damien’s world.

I pulled back for a breath, searching Andrew's eyes for something—anything—that could anchor me here. But all I saw were kindness and interest reflected back at me. He looked at me like I was some kind of prize, not a girl teetering on the edge of emotional ruin because of someone else entirely.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing a thumb across my cheek as if sensing my hesitation.

I forced a smile, trying to push away the memories of Damien—the way he held me tight against him like I belonged to him and only him, how his smirk could ignite anger or desire in one breath.

“Yeah,” I lied through clenched teeth, feeling the dissonance between my words and reality twist inside me like a knife.

As Andrew leaned in again, I closed my eyes tight against the flood of memories threatening to break through—the touch of Damien’s fingers along my jawline and that intense gaze that seemed to read my very soul. It sent shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with Andrew’s warmth pressing into me now.

I tried to silence those thoughts; tried so hard to lose myself in this moment with someone who seemed so perfect—but with each passing second, it became clear: no matter how much I wanted it to feel right, it never would be enough.

I tried to drown out the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind, but Andrew moved too fast. One moment he was leaning in, his lips on mine, and the next, his hands slid to my hips. I felt a heat radiate through me, but it quickly morphed into something else entirely.

"Wait—"

My heart raced as he slipped lower, his fingers grazing the edges of my dress. Panic flared in my chest like a sudden fire igniting dry grass. This was moving too fast, and all I could think about was Damien’s smirk, how he’d pull me close just like this before pushing me away with that same intensity.

“Come on, sweetheart. You brought me here,” Andrew urged, his voice low and coaxing. But those words sent a sickening twist through my stomach.

"I said stop."

The firm grip on my wrist felt possessive in a way that triggered something deep within me. It wasn’t rough or aggressive; it just felt too much. Too controlling.

“Andrew—” I tried again, forcing the words past the knot forming in my throat.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he pulled me closer, and I caught a glimpse of that confident smile—a charm meant to sweep me off my feet—but all I could see were flashes of Damien’s dark eyes watching from the shadows. The echoes of his touch lingered on my skin like an unwanted tattoo.

“Just relax,” he said, leaning closer as if to capture more than just a kiss this time.

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