chapter 6: Midnight Lines
863 Words
It was nearly midnight when Amara's phone rang.
She had just stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a cotton robe, steam curling through her hotel suite like mist. She glanced at the caller ID.
Liam.
Not Blackwood. Not “Unknown.” Just… Liam.
Her heartbeat jumped for no good reason.
She answered. “Did something happen at the site?”
“No,” he said. His voice was lower than usual, almost quiet. “Nothing urgent. I just… can’t sleep.”
She blinked, surprised. “You called me because you can’t sleep?”
There was a pause.
“Yes.”
It wasn’t flirtation. It wasn’t business. There was something else in his voice — something she hadn’t heard from him before.
Honesty.
“I keep thinking about earlier,” he added. “About that guy. Caleb.”
Amara sat down at the edge of the bed, pressing the phone to her ear. “You don’t have to worry about him.”
“I know. But I do.”
“Why?”
Another pause.
“Because he made you look smaller. And nothing about you is small.”
The silence that followed was thick.
She swallowed, voice softer. “Are you always like this at midnight? Raw?”
He gave a quiet laugh. “I don’t know. I don’t usually call anyone at midnight.”
“You could’ve texted.”
“I didn’t want to.”
And that said more than any message could.
“Do you want me to come over?” he asked, low.
She didn’t answer right away. Her pulse jumped again — not from fear, not from nerves.
From want.
But she also wasn’t stupid.
“You’re lonely,” she said.
“I’m curious,” he corrected. “About what happens if I stop pretending I’m not thinking about you every second I’m not looking at you.”
Her breath caught. She stood and walked to the window, robe clinging to her skin, the city glowing beneath her like a promise.
“Say something,” he said.
“You’re dangerous when you’re honest,” she whispered.
“And you’re impossible when you pretend you’re not interested.”
She smiled faintly. “We agreed not to mix business and… whatever this is.”
“That was your rule.”
“And you didn’t argue.”
“I didn’t have a reason to.”
Silence again. The kind that tasted like tension.
“Liam,” she said slowly. “We’re not just playing with fire here. We’re both soaked in gasoline.”
“Maybe I want to burn.”
She closed her eyes.
“Not tonight,” she whispered.
“I didn’t call to change your mind. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
And somehow, that was worse than anything else he could have said.
“Goodnight, Liam.”
“Goodnight, Amara.”
She hung up — hand trembling slightly — and stood at the window for a long, long time.
---
The Next Morning...
Amara showed up on-site like nothing had happened. No sign of the late-night phone call. No sign of the fact that she had barely slept, Liam’s voice haunting her until dawn.
She wore tailored navy slacks, a crisp white blouse, and her favorite nude heels. Controlled. Polished. Unbothered.
Until she saw him.
Liam was already there. Early. Unusual.
And different.
He wasn’t in his usual buttoned-up armor. Today, he wore a black T-shirt, work boots, and jeans. He looked… raw. Real. More man than myth.
And when he turned and saw her, his eyes changed. Not surprised. Not smug.
Just focused.
“Morning,” he said.
“You’re early.”
“I thought I’d surprise you.”
“You did.”
They walked the perimeter together — checking progress, reviewing changes, and barely talking. Every step buzzed with words unsaid.
Finally, at the base of the new steel stairwell, Liam paused.
“There’s something about you,” he said.
She turned. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not,” he said. “It’s… frustrating.”
She arched a brow. “You’re not used to being frustrated?”
“Not like this.”
Amara crossed her arms. “Because I don’t throw myself at you?”
“Because you make me want to throw everything away just to see what you’d do if I touched you.”
Silence fell like a bomb.
And she hated — hated — how much her body betrayed her in that moment.
She wanted him too. God, she wanted him.
But wanting wasn’t the same as trusting.
And love — real love — couldn’t be built on tension alone.
So she leaned in, eyes sharp.
“You touch me, Liam Blackwood, and I guarantee one of two things will happen.”
He swallowed. “Tell me.”
“I’ll either fall so hard I forget every reason I told myself not to… or I’ll walk away so fast you won’t know what you just lost.”
He looked at her like she was a puzzle he’d never solve.
Then?
He stepped back.
And smiled.
“You’re not just fire,” he murmured. “You’re the whole damn storm.”
- Writer
