Chapter 12 - Tangled Strings
1012 Words
Aria told herself she wouldn’t think about him.
She told herself she’d keep her head down, focus on work, on the rhythm of her days. She told herself Damon Cross would fade, like a nightmare chased off by morning light.
But every lie unraveled the moment she stepped outside.
---
The city felt smaller somehow, tighter. Every shadow seemed to hold him. Every glint of dark glass from a passing car made her flinch. She hated herself for it—for letting him take up space inside her mind.
Yet deep down, she knew the truth. Damon wasn’t gone. Damon wasn’t ever gone.
---
That afternoon, Lena dragged her out for lunch.
“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Lena said, tugging Aria into a bright little diner across from the bookstore. “And before you lie, don’t bother. I can see the bags under your eyes from space.”
Aria sighed, sliding into the booth. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re haunted.” Lena leaned closer, lowering her voice. “It’s him, isn’t it? Your… admirer.”
Aria froze.
Lena grinned. “Oh my god, it is! I knew it. Girl, spill. What’s his deal? Is he rich? Dangerous? Both?”
Aria swallowed. “Lena, I can’t—”
“Can’t what? Talk to me? Best friends are for this exact thing.” Lena nudged her playfully, but her eyes softened. “Seriously, though. He’s not scaring you, is he?”
Aria forced a smile. “No. Just… complicated.”
Lena eyed her suspiciously but let it drop, chattering about work gossip instead. Aria tried to follow, tried to laugh at the ridiculous story about a customer who demanded oat milk but drank half a cappuccino before noticing.
But her gaze drifted to the window.
And froze.
Across the street, leaning against a sleek black car, Damon watched her.
He didn’t wave. Didn’t smile. Just looked. As if her laughter, her words, her every movement belonged to him.
Aria’s fork clattered against the plate.
“Aria?” Lena frowned. “What is it?”
Aria blinked, and just like that, the sidewalk was empty. The car was gone.
“Nothing,” she whispered. “I thought I saw something.”
---
Back at the café, unease clung to her like smoke. She threw herself into cleaning, into stocking supplies, anything to keep her hands busy.
By closing, Lena headed out first, tossing a wink over her shoulder. “Don’t stay too late. And if Mr. Broody Billionaire shows up again, call me. I’ll bring popcorn.”
Aria rolled her eyes, but the moment the door shut, silence pressed in heavy and suffocating.
She was wiping down the counter when the bell chimed.
Her heart lurched.
He was there.
---
“Damon,” she whispered, too tired to hide her dread.
“Aria.” His voice wrapped around her, velvet and steel. “Rough day?”
“You can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?” He strolled closer, slow and deliberate, his presence filling the room. “Wanting you?”
Her chest tightened. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.” His eyes swept her face like a possession already claimed. “You hate mornings, but you’ll drag yourself out of bed because you’re stubborn. You hold your coffee cup with both hands even when it’s too hot because you crave warmth. You smile at strangers even when you don’t feel like it because you can’t stand the idea of disappointing anyone. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Aria’s throat went dry.
He wasn’t wrong.
And that terrified her more than anything.
---
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded.
“Because,” Damon said, stepping closer until only the counter separated them, “I can’t stop.”
Her breath hitched.
“Do you want me to?” he asked, softer now. “If you tell me to leave, really tell me, I’ll go.”
Aria’s lips parted. This was it—the moment to sever whatever tether bound them. She should say yes. She should scream at him to get out, to never come back.
But the words stuck in her throat, strangled by something she couldn’t name.
Her silence stretched.
Damon’s smile was faint, dangerous. “That’s what I thought.”
---
He reached into his jacket and placed something on the counter.
A phone.
“Use it,” he said simply. “It’s secure. Only I’ll be on the other end.”
Aria stared. “You’re insane.”
“Or maybe I just understand us better than you do.” His gaze darkened, hungry. “Take it, Aria. Because sooner or later, you’re going to need me. And when you do, I’ll be waiting.”
He brushed past her, his hand grazing hers, lingering just long enough to ignite sparks that chased down her veins.
By the time she spun around, he was gone.
---
That night, the phone sat on her nightstand, black and sleek, a silent threat. She told herself she wouldn’t touch it. She shoved it into the drawer.
But at 2 a.m., wide awake, heart racing, she pulled it out.
The screen lit up. No notifications.
Still, her thumb hovered.
Don’t, she told herself.
But she was already dialing.
---
The line connected on the first ring.
“Aria.” His voice was low, as if he’d been waiting.
Her breath trembled. “I shouldn’t be calling.”
“Yet here you are.”
Silence pulsed, thick and charged.
Finally, she whispered, “Why me?”
For once, Damon didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his words were quiet, almost reverent.
“Because the moment I saw you, the world stopped. And I knew I’d burn it down before I let you go.”
Aria’s chest tightened, her heart a frantic drum.
She should hang up. She should throw the phone out the window.
Instead, she stayed on the line, listening to his breath, her own traitorous pulse matching its rhythm.
- Writer
