Page 74 of Siren

"You don’t ask for nothin’

But your eyes say too much

And I’m scared of the rush

Of believing in us..."

I followed:

"Got my hands on the edge

But I dive when it’s you

You say we could crash

And I hope that we do..."

Our harmonies met in the hook, that tension curling between us:

"You do Dangerous Love to my peace

And I love how you ruin me sweet..."

Her eyes found mine and stayed there.

She smiled like it was everything we wanted.

But inside, I was drifting. I didn’t know where I fit anymore. If this was still mine too.

She didn’t notice. Didn’t see the weight behind my smile.

After the show, we stepped off set into a flurry of PR chatter and producer praise.

"We’re gonna send car service for the next thing," someone said.

Sienna turned to me, glowing. “Come back to my suite? We can order food, decompress a little before the press junket tonight.”

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want her.

Because I didn’t know if she still saw me.

I kissed her warm cheek gently. “I’m wiped. Gonna lay low for a minute.”

She searched my face for something. Didn’t press.

“Okay. I’ll text you.”

I nodded. Let her go.

Back in my suite, I poured a drink. Sat on the edge of the bed. The curtains were still drawn, the room dim except for the TV casting soundless color across the walls.

I pulled out my phone.

Sienna was everywhere.

Clips of the performance. Screengrabs of her smile. Tweets about her voice, her dress, her glow-up.

And under one photo from a selfie she posted after i fucked her senseless:

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