Page 38 of You Found Me in the Dark
His fingers rose—slow, deliberate—and tilted my chin up with just two fingers. My breath caught. His gaze was intense, his skin warm, and for a second, I swore he was going to kiss me. I leaned in, caught in his gravity, already tasting the anticipation?—
But then his lips brushed past my cheek, stopping at my ear, and he whispered:
“Okay.”
That was it. Just okay.
He pulled back with a smirk, watching my stunned expression. My cheeks flushed so fast I felt heat crawl up my neck.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
“You asshat,” I muttered, laughing, trying to play it cool. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”
“Did you?” he asked, fake-innocent, already turning toward his sketchbook. “Weird. I was just thinking about your tattoo.”
I watched him move, still dazed, still tingling from the way he looked at me. He sat down, flipping to a fresh page and grabbing a pencil like it was just another day. Like he hadn’t just left me dangling on the edge of something breathless and electric. And the truth? I loved it.
I moved closer, peering over his shoulder, heart thumping out a steady rhythm. He sketched with quiet focus, his hands steady, lines and shapes blooming into something I knew was going to be perfect. I tried not to hover too obviously, but Reed hunched over the sketch like it was top secret.
“Come on,” I groaned. “Just a peek?—”
“Wren,” he warned, not even looking up. “You’ll see it when it’s done.”
I pouted, then leaned into the back of his chair. “This feels like a power move.”
“It is a power move,” he said. “And it’s working.”
Fine. If he wants to play, then I will too. I dipped my head low, lips brushing the edge of his neck, right beneath his ear. He froze. I smiled.
“You know,” I whispered, slow and teasing, “I always wondered what you’d look like flustered.”
His pencil halted.
“You’re always so calm,” I continued, trailing my fingers along his shoulder. “But I bet I could change that…”
He swallowed hard. His muscles tensed beneath my hand.
Reed turned a little, still not looking at me, but I saw his mouth twitch. That look that said he was holding on by a thread.
“Wren…” His voice was lower now. Rougher. “You’re being very distracting,” he muttered.
“I know.” I leaned in again, lips grazing just under his jaw.
He let out a slow breath, then turned fast. Our eyes locked. His pupils were dark and his cheeks flushed. He unintentionally licked his lips as he glanced between my eyes and mouth.
“You done?” I asked sweetly, pretending I wasn’t melting inside from how good it felt to unravel him like this. He looked like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss me or put me in a corner.
Then, finally, he held the sketch up.
“Now I am.”
I stood up, looked down, and stopped breathing. It’s beautiful.
It was a crescent moon made out of flowers. The flowers look soft but strong, like they’ve been through things and still decided to bloom anyway. There’s this arc of tiny stars behind them, almost like a secret constellation only I’d recognize. The whole thing feels quiet and brave and a little bit magical. It just… feels like me.
“It’s…” I swallowed. “It’s perfect.”
Reed watched me closely. “I wanted it to feel like you. The crescent moon can represent both the beginning and end of cycles, signifying new starts and transformations. I gave you the waxing moon to signify a new and brighter beginning.”
