Smoke and Mirrors
401 Words
The night had deepened, but sleep was nowhere near. Ava lay in Damien’s bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, her body still humming from the collision of anger and desire. Damien sat at the edge, shirtless, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it held answers.
Neither spoke for a long time.
Then Ava broke the silence. “She knew things. About you. About this place.”
Damien didn’t look up. “She was part of my life before I knew how to protect it.”
Ava shifted, the silk of her slip whispering against her skin. “And now?”
He turned, eyes dark. “Now I only want what’s real.”
She reached for him, fingers trailing down his spine. “Then prove it.”
What followed wasn’t gentle. It was raw, desperate, a silent war between needing and knowing. His hands gripped her like he was afraid she’d vanish. Her lips found his neck, his chest, every place that had once belonged to someone else. She claimed it now.
Their bodies moved like they were trying to erase Elise’s memory, rewrite the story in sweat and gasps. But even in the heat, Ava felt the chill of doubt. Was she the choice or just the distraction?
After, Damien traced circles on her bare back. “She’s gone.”
Ava didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Her silence was a question he hadn’t earned the right to answer.
The sun crept in through the sheer curtains, casting soft gold across the bed. Ava stirred, her body sore in the best way, but her mind restless. Damien was already up, shirtless in the kitchen, pouring coffee like nothing had happened.
She watched him for a moment. The way his muscles moved beneath his skin. The way he always seemed composed, even when everything was unraveling.
“Sleep okay?” he asked, not turning around.
Ava slid out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her. “Not really.”
He handed her a mug. “I meant what I said last night.”
She took it, fingers brushing his. “I know. But I also know how easy it is to say things when you’re trying not to lose someone.”
Damien’s jaw flexed. “You think I’m lying?”
“I think you’re hiding.”
He didn’t deny it. And that silence was louder than any confession.
- Writer
