Page 65 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
They talked through the logistics and made plans. When Aria finally hung up, her shirt was dry and the knot in her chest had loosened, just a little.
She sat for a moment in the quiet.
Then, without letting herself overthink, she opened her messages.
She scrolled to Crispin's name. Her thumb hovered. Then she typed:
How are you?
The reply came in under ten seconds.
I've been waiting a long time for this.
Four weeks, three days, four hours and thirty-four minutes to be exact.
Her breath caught again.
Everything she had wanted to believe-that he missed her, that he'd been counting time till his birthday the way she unconsciously had-was right there, plain as day.
But so was the truth of his world.
And the silence that stretched between his message and what she wanted to say next was crushing.
Her thumb moved as if with a mind of its own, and she typed slowly.
I saw your friend loitering outside.
The words sat on the screen for a second before she hit send. She didn't mention that the man had stood out like a sore thumb in their tired little neighbourhood. His fresh haircut, clean leather shoes, and too straight posture was unusual for someone just passing by. She'd watched him nervously drop a grocery bag at her doorstep and hover longer than necessary, pretending to scroll through his phone.
Crispin's idea of help. Always cloaked and always another layer beneath the surface.
Her phone buzzed again after a beat.
I just want to make sure you're okay.
Aria swallowed, heart pounding like a drum, the strange cocktail of love and exasperation making her fingers tremble. Before she could overthink, she typed:
I need to go away for a bit. My job situation's not good. I'm going to live with Lule.
She stared at the message for a heartbeat before pressing send.
Her phone lit up, buzzing sharply. It clattered to the floor like a shot fired. It rang and rang, Crispin's name glowing up at her like a viper rearing to strike.
She stood frozen, hand hovering before reaching for it.
The ringing stopped, but a second later, it started buzzing again.
She closed her eyes and pressed her thumb against the green icon.
"Aria?"
Chapter 35
Aria
His voice, a whisper of rough silk and wonder, washed over her. There was a tremor in it, something she hadn't heard before. His low, textured bass curled around her name like velvet over steel. He spoke softly, like warm molasses overflowing, sending a tremor straight to the juncture of her thighs. There was a gravelly undercurrent, as if every word had been dragged through smoke and sleepless nights before it reached her.
A kind of reverence.
