RICH PEOPLE ACTIVITIES 🥂
722 Words
Beckett's POV
The ride back was quieter. The hum of the plane filled the space where words might've gone, but silence didn't feel uncomfortable with her. Adriana sat beside me, curled in the same blanket from the boat, her head eventually resting against my shoulder as the city lights faded beneath us.
She tried to stay awake-typical Valencourt stubbornness-but exhaustion won. Her breathing evened out, her hand falling limp against my arm.
For a while, I just watched her. The faint rise and fall of her chest, the way the stray strands of her hair brushed her face with each breath. Carefully, I reached up and brushed them back, fingers tracing lightly through her curls.
She shifted closer, a soft sound escaping her lips before she stilled again.
Something unfamiliar settled in my chest-something quiet, dangerous, and tender.
When the plane landed and I drove her home, she was still drowsy, blinking slowly as she stepped onto the curb in front of her building. The city had gone hushed for the night, the streetlamps casting a soft gold glow over the sidewalk.
I reached for her hand without thinking. She didn't pull away.
When we reached her door, she turned to thank me, but the words never came. I leaned in, my hand still wrapped around hers, and kissed her.
It wasn't careful. Or calculated. It was something else-slow, intent, the kind of kiss that silenced thought. Her hand slipped around my neck, my arm sliding around her waist, drawing her closer.
When we broke apart, she was breathless, eyes half-lidded. I grinned.
"Guess that means you're mine now," I murmured, voice low against her lips, the arrogance automatic-my usual defense.
Her fingers toyed with the edge of my collar, eyes glinting. "Oh, is that so?"
"Absolutely."
She leaned in, close enough that I felt her breath against my mouth. For a second, I thought she'd kiss me again.
But instead, she whispered, "I still don't like you," and stepped back, disappearing through the door with a faint smile.
The door clicked shut.
I stood there for a moment, the ghost of her smile still playing in my head, the warmth of her lips still lingering on mine.
And for the first time in a long time, I laughed.
.........
Adriana's POV
The next day was supposed to be quiet. Peaceful.
No Beckett. No teasing remarks or smug smiles that made my brain stop functioning properly.
Just me, a cappuccino, and the library's sunlit corner where I could finally focus.
I had just settled in, opened my book, and exhaled when a familiar cologne drifted through the air-clean, expensive, annoyingly comforting.
I froze.
Please, no.
Then came the voice. Low. Smooth. Entirely too self-satisfied.
"Miss me?"
I turned my head slowly. And of course-there he was. Beckett Ashborne in all his infuriating perfection, sliding into the chair beside me like he had every right to be there.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed, keeping my voice down.
He shrugged, that lazy smirk forming. "It's only been a day, and you didn't answer my text. Avoiding me?"
"No," I said, trying to sound unbothered. "It's called being busy, Ashborne."
His smile widened. "Am I 'Ashborne' again?"
"Don't be silly," I whispered, leaning closer so the librarian wouldn't glare at us. "You never stopped."
His eyes glinted, catching the slant of sunlight coming through the tall windows. "You say that like it bothers you."
"It doesn't," I lied, flipping a page I hadn't read.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching out like he owned the place-like he owned me, which made my pulse flicker with irritation and... something else.
For a few minutes, we sat there in silence. Or tried to. His presence was too magnetic, too loud in a quiet room. I could feel him looking at me every few seconds, like he was daring me to look back.
Finally, I whispered without glancing up, "You really have nothing better to do?"
He chuckled under his breath. "Not today."
"That's sad."
"That's commitment."
I looked up then, meeting his eyes. "To what exactly?"
His smile softened-barely, but enough for me to notice. "You."
My heart stuttered, and I immediately looked back at my book. "You're unbelievable."
"I get that a lot."
I tried not to smile, but it slipped through anyway.
- Writer
