# 8 THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US
2197 Words
I couldn't get my mind off him, I couldn't get my mind off that image of him. The way he stared at the mirror as if he knew I was watching him, the way he kept on reaching out to the places I had bugged scared me, yet my blood froze every single time I watched him from the screen. I wanted to see him. I wanted him with me — all for me. And I was glad I had a lead on him, and I wasn't planning on letting it go that easily.
"Nat, are you listening?" Eleanor asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah yeah… sorry, can you repeat that? I didn’t get you," I said, looking at her with a nervous grin. She stared at me for a moment — I saw concern — but it vanished as quickly as it came.
"I was saying that this holiday we should go home, since the new year’s coming… and Christmas. Like, I love your aunt’s chocolate cookies. Her hot choco is the best," she said, fantasizing about the taste of my mom’s cookies.
"Yeah, I'm up for it," I said, making her look at me confused.
"Nat, you've been acting strangely for a while now, and I'm not trying to be nosy or anything, but I can't ignore the fact that you've been acting weird lately." She said it gently, but I wasn’t ready to tell her that I had gone to his hotel room, bugged the place, and was watching him. I didn’t want to tell her anything about him because I knew exactly what she would say — she’d never understand. He was the only one I could look at differently. He was out of my reach, yet I wanted to hold him, cage him, keep him. My heart raced every time his face appeared on the screen. He made my blood freeze. He made my head scream for more.
"Eleanor, I don’t know what you want from me, honestly. If you're trying not to be nosy then stick your nose out of my business, ’cause you're becoming really nosy." I snapped without realizing it.
Eleanor stared at me, about to say something, but instead she pressed her lips together and nodded.
"Sure," she said. Just that. Her voice sounded hurt, and guilt pinched my chest.
"I'm going." She stood up and grabbed her purse.
"To where? Aren’t you coming home?" I asked. She avoided eye contact — yeah, she was hurt.
"Somewhere. You can go wherever you want, okay?" She said, walking out of the hall.
"Eleanor!" I called, but she didn’t spare me a glance.
Yeah, I knew I'd been hurting her lately. The last time she brought Denver up, I snapped at her too. She was just concerned, so why did I keep pushing her away? Something was close to me, and I kept denying it.
I stood, grabbed my bag, and left the hall. I walked through the hallway hoping not to meet Denver — but luck hated me. He stood at the entrance with some people I didn’t know. Maybe friends. I kept my head low and walked past them.
"Excuse me, I’ll be back in a few," I heard Denver say. For some insane reason, I slowed down.
Footsteps hurried after me.
"Hey, Nat," Denver called. I froze, inhaling sharply as my heart hammered.
"H-hey, Denver," I stuttered, embarrassed. I felt my face heat up.
"Cute," he said. My "huh?" made him chuckle.
"Like you're being cute right now. Not like you’re not always cute — you are — but—" He stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know I’m talking nonsense right now. It’s embarrassing."
No. I was embarrassed.
"So actually, the reason I stopped you is because of what I said the day we met at the park."
"What did you say that was wrong?" I asked.
"I wanted to say I was sorry for saying you looked beautiful that day… when I should’ve told you you're beautiful every single day. I feel like an i***t for not saying that."
I swear I almost exploded.
"I-it’s nothing… it’s okay," I managed, forcing a smile.
Denver always said things that made my stomach twist. He was unpredictable — and I liked that.
"That’s cool then. Um, it seems like you're going home. And uh… can I have your contact info?"
"Sure." I gave him my phone, and he gave me his. My heart fluttered as he typed.
"Oh, you’re on i********: too?" he asked. I nodded and added my username.
"Make sure to save it, okay?" he said with a smile. I was ready to leave before I combusted.
"Oh — one more thing," he said, stepping closer. Too close. Close enough that his scent filled my lungs. My heartbeat slammed in my chest. I bit my lip, trying to calm my breathing.
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.
"You look irresistible whenever you blush," he whispered.
My whole face caught fire. He saw.
He leaned back with a grin.
"See you later, Natia."
I stood frozen, lost in a daze. The way he said my name… I didn’t hate it. I wanted him to keep saying it.
—
I didn’t even remember how I got home. My body moved but my mind stayed behind — stuck on Denver’s voice replaying and replaying…
My phone buzzed.
Denver: Did you get home safe? :)
I hope I didn’t make things too awkward earlier.
My heart skipped.
Me: Yeah. And no, you didn’t.
Denver: Good. I was worried I said too much. I meant it though. You really are beautiful.
Heat rushed to my face. Why did he make me feel this way?
Before I could reply, another notification popped up — one that drained all the warmth from my body.
A movement alert.
My breath hitched. I opened the feed.
Him.
Speaking to a man in a black suit. Accepting an envelope. The camera caught a reflection behind them — a banner.
A party. A fundraiser.
Tonight.
My pulse spiked.
A lead.
I stood and went straight to my mirror, pulling out the black evening dress I bought months ago — pretending I bought it for myself, even though I knew the truth.
The silky fabric hugged my body.
I pulled on long black gloves, my breathing shaky.
I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.
Dangerous.
Obsessed.
Denver: You went quiet. Everything okay?
Me: Something came up. I’ll text you later.
I didn’t wait for his reply.
Tonight wasn’t about Denver.
Tonight…
I was going to see him.
Not through a screen, not through a bugged camera.
Up close.
I slipped on my heels, grabbed my purse, and stepped into the night — heart steady, deadly, certain.
Tonight, I wasn’t just watching him.
Tonight, I was entering his world.
Getting into the venue wasn’t easy.
The place was too elegant, too polished, too expensive for someone like me. The building looked like the kind of place only old money and dangerous people walked into without being questioned. I handed my fake ID to the guard at the door, praying he wouldn’t look too closely. My palms were sweating under my gloves.
He frowned. Scanned my face. Scanned the card.
My heartbeat clawed up my throat.
Then he nodded.
“Enjoy your night, miss.”
I exhaled shakily and stepped inside.
The moment I entered, the world changed.
Golden light dripped from chandeliers. A soft violin and piano duet filled the air. Everyone was dressed in luxury — real, heavy luxury. Diamonds glowed on necks, silk flowed with every step. Even the waiters moved like they had been trained by royalty: straight backs, soft eyes, smooth gestures.
I swallowed. I didn’t belong here.
But I didn’t come to belong.
I came for him.
Every step I took, I adjusted my dress gently, fixing the fabric so it hugged my body perfectly. I kept my chin lifted, my lips tinted a darker red. The gloves helped hide my trembling fingers.
Then—
My breath caught.
There he was.
He stood on the far end of the room, surrounded by people who looked powerful enough to buy and destroy lives with a single phone call. They gave him space, respect, silence—the kind of silence only a dangerous man commands.
He was… breathtaking.
His glossy black hair, shoulder-length, was slicked back neatly, the ends brushing the nape of his neck. I had only seen it on screen, never this close, never under warm light that made every strand look sharper. He wore a black suit, tailored to his body so perfectly it almost hurt to look at him.
He looked taller in person. Sharper. More severe.
More… real.
My knees weakened for a second.
I didn’t approach.
I wasn’t stupid.
People like him didn’t like people walking up to them.
So instead, I positioned myself near a polished marble column, keeping him in sight. My hand slipped into my purse, fingers finding my phone.
I lifted it casually, pretending to scroll, pretending to check messages… when in reality, I angled it expertly and — click.
One picture.
He turned slightly.
My pulse stopped.
I lowered the phone.
Waited.
Raised it again.
Click.
Another.
His eyes scanned the room like he was hunting for something — or someone. His expression sharp, unreadable. I felt something cold crawl down my spine. A thrill. Fear. Want. All tangled into something dangerous.
He moved when he talked. Small gestures. The kind of controlled movements that said he knew exactly what he was capable of.
His presence filled the room like smoke.
I couldn’t breathe.
I didn’t want to breathe.
Every time I looked at him, my blood froze in the most thrilling way. I wanted him so badly it ached. My fingers tightened around my phone. My head screamed his name without me saying it.
But beauty comes with its own curse.
Men noticed me.
The first was a tall man with broad shoulders and a gold ring that screamed money.
“Good evening,” he said, his eyes traveling too slowly down my figure. “I haven’t seen you around before.”
I forced a polite smile. “Just visiting.”
He smiled back, interested.
I stepped away.
Then another approached. Older, with silver hair and a dangerous smile.
“You look exquisite in that dress,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” I muttered, trying to angle myself where I could keep watching him.
The third one wasn’t even subtle. Young, maybe late twenties, eyes bright with alcohol.
“Can I get you a drink? You look lonely.”
I wasn’t lonely.
I was focused.
I was watching the only man who mattered.
“Not interested,” I whispered, brushing past him.
The men kept coming — glances, compliments, invitations — but none of them mattered. None of them made my heart twist. None of them made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something deadly and beautiful.
Only he did.
And every time I lifted my phone, pretending to check my reflection or adjust my lipstick, I captured him again.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Little pieces of him.
Pieces I could own.
He moved farther into the crowd, deeper into the heart of the party, and something in me pulled tight, painful, desperate.
I needed to follow him.
Even if it meant stepping deeper into danger.
Even if it meant being seen.
Even if it meant losing myself a little more.
- Writer
