AFTERMATH IN MOTION
1538 Words
I’m still watching the space where Eric disappeared when Bella grabs my shoulders and physically turns me.
“Nope,” she says. “Absolutely not. We are not spiraling in public.”
“I’m not—”
“You are vibrating,” she cuts in. “Like a phone on silent.”
My chest is still going too fast, breath shallow, skin warm where his hand was. The music keeps rolling, indifferent, cruel.
Bella leans in close, eyes bright, voice dropping. “That woman? She knew him.”
“I noticed.”
“She knew him knew him.”
“I noticed,” I repeat, sharper.
“Okay,” she says, nodding decisively. “Then we are calling this what it was.”
“What was it.”
“A near-miss with consequences,” she says. “Which is my least favorite genre.”
She takes my wrist and pulls me toward the bar, weaving through bodies like she’s on a mission. Someone bumps us, laughs, keeps moving. The night refuses to slow down.
We land at the counter. Bella slaps a hand down. “Two waters.”
The bartender raises an eyebrow.
“Make them judgmental,” she adds.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to reset my nervous system. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes,” she says. “I did.”
The waters arrive. Cold plastic in my palm. I drink too fast, throat burning.
Bella watches me over the rim of her cup. “You almost forgot where you were.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did,” she says gently. “Just for a second.”
I set the cup down. “I can handle myself.”
“I know,” she says. “That’s why this is scary.”
A group of girls squeezes in beside us, giggling, phones already out. One of them glances at me, then whispers something. Another looks toward the dance floor, scanning.
Bella notices immediately. She angles her body, casual but blocking. “You are suddenly fascinating,” she murmurs.
“I don’t want to be.”
“Too late.”
The music drops again. Cheers erupt. Someone shouts my name — not close, not familiar — and my stomach tightens.
Bella follows my gaze. “Okay,” she says. “New rule.”
I sigh. “There are a lot of rules tonight.”
“This one’s simple,” she says. “If he comes back, we leave.”
“What if I don’t want to.”
She studies me for a beat. Really looks. “Then we leave faster.”
I huff a laugh despite myself. “You’re dramatic.”
“I am protective,” she corrects. “There’s a difference.”
Across the room, I spot Eric again — farther now, half-hidden near the exit, talking to someone with their back to me. His posture is tight. Controlled. The way it gets when he’s trying not to feel something.
Our eyes meet again.
Just a flicker.
He looks away immediately.
My chest aches with it.
Bella groans softly. “Oh, this is tragic.”
“I hate that you’re enjoying this.”
“I’m not enjoying it,” she says. “I’m cataloging it.”
She drains her water and tosses the cup. “Okay. That’s enough.”
She grabs my hand and pulls, already moving. “We’re cashing out before this turns into a headline.”
I let her drag me toward the exit, past the press of bodies, past the bass and the lights and the watching eyes. Someone brushes my shoulder and says my name again, curious, amused.
I don’t turn around.
The cool air hits us like a slap as we spill onto the sidewalk, noise muffled behind the door. Bella stops short, hands on her knees, laughing breathlessly.
“Wow,” she says. “I need to lie down.”
I stand there, heart still racing, club noise leaking into the street, neon flickering overhead.
The door opens behind us.
I don’t look.
Not yet.
“Don’t turn around,” Bella says immediately.
“I wasn’t going to,” I reply.
She gives me a look. “You were absolutely going to.”
She loops her arm through mine and starts walking with purpose, like movement alone might undo the night.
“Janyia.”
My name lands clean this time. Close. Certain.
Bella stops. Slowly unhooks herself from me. “I’m giving you exactly one minute,” she says, already backing away. “And I am not pretending I don’t see this.”
I turn.
Eric Dusine is standing there like he made a decision and regrets it already. His face isn’t guarded anymore. That’s new. That’s dangerous.
“I shouldn’t have followed you,” he says.
“But you did,” I reply.
“Yes,” he says, immediately. “Because leaving without saying anything felt dishonest, and I don’t think dishonesty is helping either of us right now.”
I cross my arms. “You sound like you’ve rehearsed that.”
“I tried not to,” he says. “I failed.”
That almost makes me smile.
Almost.
“This was supposed to be a night out,” I say. “I didn’t invite consequences.”
“I know,” he replies. “And I’m sorry if I added to them. That wasn’t my intention.”
“You keep apologizing like you did something alone,” I say. “I was there too.”
“That’s not what worries me.”
I tilt my head. “Then what does?”
He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t know — because he does.
“The fact that you didn’t hesitate,” he says. “The fact that you looked at me like you wanted to stay instead of like you were counting exits.”
I let out a breath. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s honest.”
I shake my head. “You don’t get to analyze me like I’m a situation.”
“I’m not,” he says quickly. “I’m trying not to pretend this didn’t mean something.”
“That’s interesting,” I reply, “because you’re also standing here telling me it can’t.”
He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Both can be true.”
I stare at him. “That sounds like something you say when you’re trying to talk yourself out of wanting something.”
His mouth curves despite himself. “You’re observant.”
“I have to be.”
A beat passes. Not silence — awareness.
“I didn’t expect to see you like that,” he says. “Relaxed. Laughing. Unapologetic. You’re very… composed most of the time.”
“Are you saying I’m intimidating?” I ask.
“I’m saying I forget you’re allowed to let go,” he replies. “And then I remember very suddenly.”
Bella clears her throat loudly from a few feet away. “Forty-five seconds.”
I don’t look at her.
“You don’t get to decide what I’m allowed to feel,” I say.
“I know,” he says. “That’s why this is difficult.”
“Difficult for who.”
“For me,” he admits. “Because I like you, and liking you means thinking three steps ahead, and every version of that future puts you in a position you didn’t ask for.”
My chest tightens. “You think I don’t already live like that.”
“I think you shouldn’t have to,” he replies.
I laugh, sharp and quiet. “That’s not how my life works.”
He studies me then — really studies me — like he’s realizing something he should’ve understood earlier.
“You’re right,” he says. “And that makes this worse, not better.”
“Because I’m not fragile,” I say.
“Because you’re not,” he agrees. “And because I still want to protect you anyway.”
“That’s not protection,” I say softly. “That’s control.”
He flinches — not offended, just struck.
“That’s fair,” he says after a moment. “And I don’t want to be that person.”
“Then stop trying to manage this like a problem,” I reply. “It’s a feeling. They’re inconvenient. That doesn’t make them wrong.”
Bella coughs again. “Thirty.”
Eric steps back half a pace. It looks deliberate. It costs him something.
“I don’t trust myself to pretend this didn’t happen,” he says. “But I do trust myself not to act on it.”
I meet his eyes. “For now.”
“For now,” he agrees.
I nod once. “Good.”
Because anything else would be a lie.
“Good night, Janyia,” he says.
“Good night, Eric.”
I turn away before either of us can ruin it.
Bella grabs my arm instantly and pulls me with her. “You two talk like you’re already in trouble.”
I don’t answer.
Because I already know — the trouble didn’t start with what we did.
It started with what we said.
- Writer
