THE ROOFTOP
294 Words
Vienna was where I nearly kissed Adrian Varen.
Or he nearly kissed me.
History will never know because both parties were cowards.
We had spent twelve hours interviewing officials who remembered
events with suspicious convenience. At midnight I found Adrian on the
hotel rooftop with his coat open and his tie in one hand.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“No.”
“Excellent. We’ve established you’re a liar.”
He turned.
“Why does it matter?”
That irritated me enough to step closer.
“It doesn’t.”
“Then why are you angry?”
“I’m not.”
“Nina.”
“Adrian.”
We were close now.
Ridiculously close.
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
The world went very still.
“Adrian.”
“I know.”
“Then move.”
He didn’t.
Neither did I.
“This is a terrible idea,” I whispered.
His eyes lifted.
“Nina, I’ve had better ideas while concussed.”
I laughed.
That was a mistake.
His hand rose.
His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth.
Every sarcastic thought in my head left the building.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
I should have.
Instead I whispered, “You first.”
The rooftop door slammed.
Mara stepped outside, stopped, and looked between us.
“I can come back.”
“No,” Adrian and I said simultaneously.
Mara’s face became unbearably pleased.
“Excellent. Because we have a problem.”
Adrian stepped away.
Cold air rushed into the space where he had been.
I hated it.
Mara held up her tablet.
“One of the interview transcripts doesn’t match the archived version.”
The almost-kiss vanished beneath adrenaline.
Almost.
I would still feel Adrian’s thumb against my mouth three hours later.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD