Page 80 of Twisted Shot
But it’s the mask that does her in.
Matte black, structured, sweeping cleanly across his cheekbones like something out of a dream. It leaves his mouth uncovered—thank God—but frames his eyes in shadow, making them look darker, hungrier. More intense.
And those eyes are on her.
Everything around her falls into soft focus as she drifts toward him, toward her Man in Black.
For a split second, she forgets how to breathe.
He walks toward her with deliberate steps, but there’s tension in the way his jaw ticks—like he’s holding something in.
“Hey,” he says, voice low, almost uncertain.
Mila forces herself to breathe, to speak, to function. “You came.”
His mouth curves, barely. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Those words break something in her. He’s here. He cares.
She takes in the mask again, the way it somehow makes him look both mysterious and exactly like himself.
She leans in, embracing him and breathing in his woodsy, spiced scent.
“I like your mask,” she says, voice quiet in his ear. “It suits you.”
She almost dies when he pulls back and winks.
“You look…” He swallows. “You’re beautiful.”
Heat blooms through her, spreading from her chest outward until even her fingertips tingle with it. Her heart wants to stay right here, wrapped up in this charged, perfect second.
But Naomi slides next to her, eyes full of apology but also taking no shit.
“Mil, I’m sorry but…” she says, voice full of regret. “What the hell are we doing? Speeches are supposed to start in twenty minutes and we have no emcee.”
Her grip tightens on Theo’s arms and presses her face into his chest, feeling the solid muscle there. There’s so much she wants to say to him. So much she needs him to know.
“I want to talk to you,” she says, pulling back and searching his hazel eyes, wishing desperately to suspend time and lose herself in the copper flecks. “I do. But I have to?—”
Theo nods once. “It’s okay. Go.”
She hates how gentle he is about it. Like he’s already stepping back. Like he’s used to it.
She nods and turns before she lets herself stay.
Every step away feels wrong. But there’s no time to dwell.
She does another sweep of the room, eyes skimming over glittering dresses and black suits, but her focus is shot. Her head’s somewhere in the clouds, mentally replaying Theo's wink and fixating on how full and perfect his lips had looked under the mask.
This is the part where things come undone—where all the perfect lighting and table settings and wine pairings won’t matter, because the entire room will feel the shift if the host can’t carry it.
Mila sees Jake near the stage chatting with Coach Barbier and his wife.
She pivots and walks straight to him before she can overthink it.
He looks up. Smiles politely. “Find someone?”
She exhales. “Yeah. You.”
