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I smirk despite myself, leaning closer until my forehead rests against hers.

‘Maybe,’ I murmur. She has hit the nail on the head with that assumption – not that I want her to get in trouble. It’s just a bit more fun when there’s a feeling of ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’.

She slides her hand up my arm, her fingers tracing slow circles on my skin. I inhale, feeling her warmth settle into me. I kiss her again, simply because I can, and I can’t get enough of her. She responds immediately, tilting her head, her lips pressing mine harder, her hands threading through my hair.

When we finally pull back, breathless, she smiles, her eyes bright with something unspoken.

‘You make it impossible to be sensible,’ she whispers.

‘Good,’ I reply, and I don’t even try to hide my grin, because with her, sensibleness isn’t part of the equation.

My phone pings and I check it. The monitor I’ve set up in my room has alerted me that someone has entered. I pull up the app and open the live camera to see my brother looking around my room, clearly wondering where I am. I wait to see whether he will go through my things, but he turns and stalks out. A relieved exhale leaves me and I lock my phone, tossing it onto the bedside table.

‘You okay?’ Bryn asks softly.

‘Yeah.’ I nod, dropping onto the bed beside her, still damp and warm. She moves closer instinctively, resting her head against my chest, and I drape an arm around her, pulling her in. Her fingers trace little patterns along my side, light and gentle, grounding me. For a long while, we just lie there in a comfortable silence. I press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling that lavender scent I could get lost in forever.

‘I’m glad to be here,’ I murmur.

Her lips brush against my chest in a tiny, almost shy kiss.

‘Me too.’

We shift until we’re tangled together, arms wrapped around each other, bodies pressed close. I feel the weight of her settle against me. Slowly, sleep tugs at me, the kind that comes after being truly, utterly spent. I let myself drift, holding her close, her breath soft against me.

For the first time in a long while, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

20

BRYN

Now

My eyes open slowly. I stretch my arms up and a yawn escapes me, as if my body knows it has nowhere to be. There’s no alarm. No schedule clawing at my brain. Just the pale morning light seeping in through the thin curtains of the spare room, and the quiet murmur of the street outside Tess and Elodie’s apartment. For a few seconds, I stay still, pressed into unfamiliar sheets, and let relief wash over me. No work. No study. No deadlines.

I exhale and stare at the ceiling, tracing a small crack that runs along its corner. Last night replays in my mind: the way Ash loomed over me, his voice deep, teasing, and familiar in a way that made my skin prickle. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. I can still see the way he looked at me, like he’d been holding his breath for years and finally let it out. Like he already knew I’d never really forgotten him, even when I desperately tried.

Ash. My former best friend. The boy I used to talk to about everything. The only boy – now a man – who I have ever loved. The one who hurt me in the most personal, crushing way that someone could. I should have seen it coming. I should have expected it, but I was young and naive. I thought the best of every person I met. I really had no clue what was happening right before my eyes. I was oblivious and clueless – two things I hope to never be again.

I never thought I’d see him again. There were times I wished I’d never have to face him, but other times I’d hoped he would turn up, climb through my window, and kiss me until I saw stars. No matter what my thoughts were, I was undoubtedly obsessed with him. I always have been.

Rolling onto my side, I pull the blanket tighter around me, even though the morning sun bleeds into the room. My phone sits on the nightstand. I stare at the dark screen, knowing what I want to do, but not wanting to give in to the temptation.

The way he watched me last night wasn’t casual or curious. It was intense and focused, like he was memorising me all over again. Like I was something he’d lost once, and refused to lose twice.

And God help me, because I feel the same way.

Years have gone by. Our lives have changed. We have become strangers. But standing there in the dark, with the endless maze around us, it felt like time hadn’t passed at all. Like the obsession never burned out and has been waiting, dormant, for us to reunite.

I sit up slowly, touching my feet to the cold floor, and laugh under my breath. Relaxing was the plan. That was the promise I made myself when I came to stay here. Instead, I’m haunted by a boy I used to know in a mask, and the man who is now underneath it.

I poke my head out into the hallway, finding the apartment silent. I quietly pad down the hall and use the bathroom, doing a sweep of the area to confirm the girls are both still asleep in their rooms. Slipping back into my room, I collapse back onto the mattress, my head turning to stare at my phone again. Chewing my lip, I reach over and I unlock it. I hesitate for half a second, my thumb hovering over the screen, then type his username into the search bar, just as I have countless times recently.

His profile picture shows him in shadows, as though he’s deliberately staying just out of reach. I tap on it and zoom in, studying the picture, as if I haven’t already done this. There are many videos and photos of him at the park in costume, mask on, sliding on his knees and looming over scared visitors with his impressive height. There are few photos not at the park, though some are taken late at night with city lights behind him, his hoodie pulled up, mask still on. Some are with his back to the camera, or him dressed in all black on his motorbike.

I watch his latest upload. It’s a video of him shirtless, wearing dark pants and his mask. His fingers fiddle with the bottom of the mask, as if teasing us with a face reveal, and his muscles flex deliciously with the slight movement. I scroll on to the next, which is a photo of his hands resting on a railing; his veins are faint, fingers long. The next is a mirror shot where his mask is half in shadows, his body taut and perfect, and a dim, red light glows behind him. People in the comments don’t hold back, and I can’t seem to stop reading them. Fire emojis. Heart eyes. Dirty one-liners.

I shouldn’t feel possessive – I don’t have the right – but I do anyway.