Chapter 8

The air in the rink had been thick enough to chew, a humid cocktail of floor wax, stale popcorn, and the electric hum of a thousand skaters grinding against the polished concrete. But now, the noise was fading, receding into the background like a tide pulling back from the shore, leaving only the hollow echo of our own heartbeats in my ears. We stood near the exit, the heavy metal doors groaning as we pushed them open, the sudden blast of cool, crisp night air hitting our sweat-dampened skin like a shock to the system. It felt wrong, leaving. It felt like tearing a bandage off a wound that had only just begun to heal. I looked up at him, my chest heaving slightly as I tried to regulate my breathing. The neon lights of the arcade reflected in his eyes, casting that familiar, predatory glint that had been owning me since the moment he walked in. He wasn’t looking at the door, or the other people filing out in clusters of giggling couples and loud families. He was looking at me. Only me. His gaze was heavy, possessive, a physical weight settling between my shoulder blades, pressing me closer