Page 48 of Endo
I don’t expect him to say anything. Hell, I don’t even know what I want him to say. But then I catch it—a flicker in his eyes, something that softens for just a second. The anger between us cracks, just barely, and beneath it, I see what he’s been hiding all along. He’s not angry. He’s not even mad at me. He’s just… lost.
The air shifts, the tension between us changing into something I can’t explain. My hand moves before I can stop it, brushing against his cheek. His skin is warm, the stubble rough under my fingertips as I tilt his face back toward mine.
“Reign,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
For a second, everything stills. His eyes lock on mine, and it’s like the weight of the world fades away. There’s nothing else—just him, just me, and the unspoken chaos between us.
And then it happens.
I kiss him.
It’s not planned. It’s not soft or tentative. It’s raw, a desperate collision of everything unsaid, every feeling we’ve been holding back for too long. His lips crash into mine with an urgency that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s like the world drops away, and for just a second, there’s only the heat of his mouth,the roughness of his touch, the weight of everything unspoken between us.
His hands are on me—grabbing, pulling, like he can’t get close enough, like he needs to feel me in a way that words could never do justice. I’m not even thinking anymore. My hands find their way to his chest, pushing against him to pull him down onto my lap, and in one smooth motion, I straddle him. His grip tightens around my thighs, fingers digging into the fabric of my clothes before they slide up to my waist, pulling me closer, harder, into him. I feel his chest against mine, the heat of his body seeping into mine, and it’s like I can’t breathe without him, like we’re both drowning in this moment.
He pulls me down into him with a force that has my pulse racing. I can feel the tension in his body, the weight of everything he’s holding onto, and for a second, I think he might pull away, but he doesn’t. He just kisses me deeper, his lips urgent, hungry, like he’s trying to erase everything that’s been keeping us apart. And for the briefest of moments, everything else falls away—the pain, the guilt, the history between us. It’s just us now. Just the heat and the desperate need to feel something, to feelalive.
His hands move up to cup my face, his thumbs brushing across my skin, grounding me, pulling me closer. But then, like a switch flips, he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his breath shallow and uneven. His forehead rests against mine, both of us gasping for air, our hearts racing in sync, the weight of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.
But neither of us moves. We just stay there, caught in the aftershock, our bodies still pressed together, unsure of what to do next.
“Lena…” His voice is raw, cracked, like it’s taking everything in him to say my name.
I open my eyes, my hand still resting on his cheek as he leans away, his gaze darting between me and the floor. I can see the storm in his eyes—the pull, the push, the fear.
It’s like we’re both standing on the edge of something, and neither of us knows what to do next.
I pull back, feeling the tears I’ve been holding back suddenly threatening to spill. I clear my throat, trying to steady myself, but my voice still wavers. “You can take the bed,” I say softly, barely above a whisper. “I’ll crash on the couch.”
The words feel hollow, like they’re not enough to fill the space between us. But it’s all I can manage right now.
He shakes his head. “No,” he says softly. “I’m not kicking you out of your bed, Lena. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe. “No, it’s fine, really. I haven’t slept in it since… since—” I confess, my voice breaking. “I can’t.”
He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at me. Then he stands up, his movements slow. “Okay,” he says, his voice quiet. “I’ll sleep on the floor, then.”
He grabs a blanket from the couch and lays it down beside me, his body sinking onto the floor with a quiet sigh. I watch him, feeling a mixture of confusion and hurt twist inside me. I’m not sure how we ended up like this—how we ended up here, in this silent, unspoken mess. But the weight of everything, of the things I haven’t said, presses down on me, and I feel it in every breath I take.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to collect myself, but I can’t stop my thoughts from racing. I pull the blanket tighter around me, my fingers brushing over the soft fabric like it might somehow anchor me to something stable. The fish tank hums quietly in the background, the sound strangely comforting in the quiet. But even with the silence, my heart is still racing, unsure of everything between us.
I try to settle into the couch, my body too restless, but then I hear his breathing. Steady. Slow. It’s enough to make the chaos in my mind fade for a moment. There’s a part of me that still doesn’t understand why he’s here, why we’re both here, why things feel so broken. But in this moment, with him so close, I can feel something shift inside me, like his presence is the only thing keeping me from unraveling.
I pull the blanket up further, the warmth grounding me, and though there’s a heavy ache in my chest, his breathing, calm and steady, somehow brings a small sense of peace. It’s strange. I don’t know why it matters so much to me that he’s here, but it does. Even with all the confusion and hurt, having him beside me—just being here—has a way of quieting the storm in my head.
I close my eyes again, and though everything between us is unresolved, I find myself relaxing just a little. Maybe not fixed, maybe not okay, but somehow... calm. For now, that’s enough.
19
REIGN
Eyes On You - SWIM
WatchingLena ride is like watching someone try to outrun their own shadow—impressive, a little crazy, and way too damn fast.
I’m leaning against the wall in the pits, watching her push herself harder than I’ve ever seen anyone try, and honestly, it’s fucking impressive. The way she handles that bike, it’s like she was born for this shit. But there’s a part of me that’s unsettled.
It’s one of those hot, sticky Florida days, the kind that makes the tarmac on the track shimmer from the heat. The sun’s beating down, and the air’s thick with humidity. I’m sweating my ass off just standing here, but I can’t look away from her. She’s focused, intent on making every turn sharper, every motion smoother. It’s like she’s trying to outrun something, though I can’t tell what.
