A GIRL WHO DIDN'T BELONG

chapter 7. THE SLIP

Outside, the night air was cooler than she expected, sharp against her flushed cheeks, the city’s hum filling the spaces between them as they walked slowly toward the taxi stand, Dennis kept his hands in his pockets, but his nearness was a constant thing, brushing against her with every step, not accidental, never accidental, she could feel his eyes on her even when he was looking ahead, that pull again, unspoken, impossible to ignore, when they reached the corner where her taxi would wait, she stopped, turning to face him, her breath a soft cloud in the night air, “I should go,” she said, though the words felt like they were coming from someone else, “Should you?” he asked quietly, stepping closer, not enough for anyone to notice from afar, but enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him, “Yes,” she managed, though her voice betrayed her, her pulse drumming so hard she could almost hear it, “Then why aren’t you moving?” his tone was low, teasing but edged with something more dangerous, his hand came up, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his knuckles grazing the line of her jaw, the touch so light it was almost worse than if he’d grabbed her, “Dennis—” she started, but he leaned in just enough that she caught the faint scent of his cologne, deep and warm, her resolve unraveling, “You keep saying my name like you want me to stop,” he murmured, “but you haven’t taken a single step back,” she swallowed, aware of how close they were, aware of the warmth pooling low in her stomach, aware of how her body wasn’t obeying her mind, “You’re crossing a line,” she whispered, but it didn’t sound like a warning, it sounded like an admission, “Maybe,” he said, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth, slow, deliberate, “But maybe the line’s been blurred for a while now,” her breath caught, her eyes searching his in the dim glow of the streetlight, and for one suspended moment the noise of the street seemed to fade, it would have been so easy to lean in, to close the distance, to let the inevitable happen right there, she didn’t, but she didn’t pull away either, his hand lingered just long enough for her to feel the absence when he let it drop, “Get in your taxi, Amarah,” he said finally, stepping back, but there was a weight to the way he said her name, like a promise, she climbed in without another word, the driver pulling away, her heart still pounding, the ghost of his touch still burning against her skin, and in the rearview mirror she saw him standing there, hands in his pockets, watching her go like a man who knew exactly what he was doing