The crisp night air bites at my cheeks as we walk side by side, the rhythm of our footsteps syncing and then falling out of time again. Alex’s hand brushes against mine, sending a shiver up my arm that has nothing to do with the cold. I want to trust this moment, to trust him, but my mind is a carousel spinning too fast, blurring his face with another—Nathan’s.
“I get why you’re upset,” Alex says. “You care about him.”
“I don’t,” I mutter. “It’s fine.”
We walk on until we reach my block. “You have a funny way of showing it,” he says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I counter.
“I mean that you’re on this date with me,” he says, his voice hard.
“Alex,” I start, my voice slicing through the comfortable silence like a skate cutting fresh ice. “I see the way you are with other girls, your fans. You have a reputation.”
He stops walking, turning to face me with a furrowed brow. The streetlight above us casts an eerie glow, and for a second, I’m caught in the icy blue depths of his stare. “What are you talking about, Lila? Fans are fans. It’s part of the deal.”
“Part of the deal?” I scoff, unable to mask the bitterness lacing my words. “It’s easy for you, isn’t it? To just turn on the charm, reel them in. How am I supposed to know where the show ends and the real Alex begins?”
“Is that what you think?” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “That this is all for show?”
“Is it?” The challenge hangs between us, a puck midair before the shot.
“Damn it, Lila.” His voice is a low growl. “I’m not Nathan, okay? I don’t have that golden boy image to uphold. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.”
A laugh, hollow and harsh, escapes me. “You don’t show them. I don’t know what’s real with you. Anyway, I’m here, aren’t I? But sometimes I wonder if—”
“Go ahead. Say it.” Alex dares me, his jaw set.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’d even notice if I wasn’t.”
“Like you’d notice me if Nathan were around?” He fires back, and I flinch. The accusation hits too close to home, a slapshot to the heart.
“Please,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “You think I want Nathan? That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Alex’s eyes bore into mine. “Because the way you looked at him tonight said otherwise. And you’re crying, Lila. What’s that all about?”
I wipe at my eyes, surprised to find fresh tears there.
“Oh, please. I’m crying because I was so happy for them.” My denial comes fast, but inside, guilt churns like a penalty kill. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” There’s a hardness in his voice that I’ve never heard before. “Or are you just too scared to admit that you can’t get over your precious Nathan Chase?”
“Stop it, Alex.” The plea is raw, torn from the depths of my confusion. “He’s marrying someone else. It wouldn’t matter even if I did care.”
“Wouldn’t it?” His voice softens, but there’s no comfort in it, only resignation. “Maybe that’s the problem, Lila. Maybe you’re so hung up on what can’t be that you’re blind to what’s right in front of you.”
“Or maybe,” I whisper, my voice breaking, “I’m just trying to protect myself from getting hurt by someone who doesn’t even care about me.”
“Then look at me, Lila.” Alex’s hands cup my face, forcing my gaze to meet his. “Really look at me, and tell me what you see.”
But all I see is a reflection of my own fear, mirrored in his pleading eyes—a fear that maybe I don’t really know what I want at all.
My fingers tremble slightly as I fish for the keys in my purse, the crisp night air doing nothing to cool the heat of the argument still simmering between us. “Do you want to come up?” The invitation hangs in the air, heavy with implications I hadn’t allowed myself to consider until this moment.
Alex’s eyes widen a fraction before he schools his expression into one of nonchalant curiosity. “I thought we were taking things slow?”
“Maybe I changed my mind,” I retort, more to challenge myself than him.
He studies me for a long moment, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind my sudden shift. Finally, he nods, a hint of the old, reckless grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Lead the way.”
My heart pounds against my ribcage as I unlock the door and step into the familiar embrace of my apartment. It’s a simple space, but it’s mine, filled with trinkets and memories that make it feel like home. None of those memories include Alex—yet.
“Nice place,” he comments, his gaze sweeping over the room before landing back on me.
“Thanks.” My voice is a whisper, barely audible above the rush of blood in my ears.
He closes the distance between us, his hands finding my waist as he pulls me closer. His touch is electric, setting my skin ablaze, and for a brief moment, I let myself sink into the sensation, into the promise of forgetting everything but the here and now.
His lips capture mine, and the kiss is a mixture of need and desperation, as if he’s trying to prove something—to me, or perhaps to himself. I respond in kind, threading my fingers through his tousled black hair, clinging to the raw charisma that so defines him.
But as our kiss deepens, a shadow falls over my mind. Nathan’s face flashes behind my closed lids. Guilt twists in my stomach, sour and unwelcome, as I try to push away the image of the boy next door who I’ve known all my life, the boy who’s supposed to marry someone else.
“Alex,” I murmur against his lips, the word a plea for... what? More time? A clearer head? “I...”
“Shh,” he whispers back, a finger gently pressing against my lips. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
And I do feel—his hands exploring my back, his breath hot against my skin, the undeniable pull of attraction. But there’s a discordant note in the symphony of sensations, a reminder of Nathan’s gentle touches, so different from Alex’s fiery embrace.
A battle rages within me, one of passion and comfort, of the exciting unknown and the familiar past. I waver, caught between the allure of Alex’s intensity and the ghost of Nathan’s tenderness.
“Look at me, Lila,” Alex says, his voice soft yet laden with an edge of urgency.
I open my eyes, meeting his gaze, and for a split second, I see beyond the Iceman facade to the vulnerability he hides so well. It’s beautiful and terrifying, and it makes me want to dive into the depths of whatever this is, or could be, between us.
“Alex,” I breathe out, the name coming out as both a caress and a sigh. “I’m trying to...” But the sentence trails off, unfinished, lost in the storm of emotions that threatens to sweep me away.
Alex’s palms slide down my waist, gripping me closer as if he can hold the fragments of my resolve together with his touch. The warmth of his hands sears through the fabric of my dress, branding me with a need I can’t articulate. His kiss deepens, and there’s a hunger there that echoes the gnawing emptiness I wish to fill—with him, with forgetfulness, with anything but thoughts of Nathan.
“Let me show you,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice a husky promise that sends shivers down my spine. He guides me backward until my legs hit the edge of the couch, and we tumble onto the cushions in a tangle of limbs. His weight is a comfort, an anchor in the tumultuous sea of my emotions.
As Alex’s mouth trails fiery kisses along the column of my neck, I close my eyes, trying to lose myself in the sensation. But even as my body arches toward his touch, my mind rebels, conjuring images of Nathan’s sunny smile, the one that used to be reserved just for me.
“Alex,” I gasp, a plea or a warning, I’m not sure. His hands are everywhere, insistent and bold, slipping under my dress to find skin. With every caress, he seems to be staking a claim, urging me to forget, to move on, to choose him.
His lips find mine again, and this time there’s a ferocity to his movements that leaves no room for doubt. This is Alex—passionate, unrelenting, consuming. And for a moment, I let go, embracing the chaos, reveling in the way he makes me feel alive.
But even as desire coils tight within me, a whisper of treachery winds its way through my heart. Nathan’s name is a silent scream in my head, a siren song pulling me back from the precipice where Alex waits, ready to catch me.
“Stop.” The word bursts from me, a ragged breath of uncertainty. My hands press against Alex’s chest, pushing him away with a force that belies my internal turmoil. “I can’t do this.”
He reaches for me again, but even as I flinch, he says, “I don’t care if you’re thinking of him. Just--”
“But I do!” I shout, shaking. Because it isn’t just that he can’t be Nathan’s replacement. It’s that he knows my mind is someplace else, and he doesn’t even care. He doesn’t want me, body and soul. He just wants my body.
And that feels like a punch to the gut.
Alex freezes, his eyes storming over. There’s confusion written on his face, quickly chased away by a dawning realization that cuts deeper than any accusation.
“Are you serious?” His voice is low, a growl of frustration that vibrates through the space between us. “There’s nothing I can do, is there? You’ll always be hung up on Nathan Chase.”
I want to deny it. But I can’t.
He stands abruptly, the movement so swift it leaves me reeling. I watch, helpless, as the walls come slamming back up around him, the vulnerability he allowed me to see vanishing behind a mask of anger.
“Alex, please—” I reach out, but he’s already retreating, a specter of hurt and rage.
“Save it, Lila,” he snaps, his back now to me as he heads for the door. “If you don’t want this, I know plenty of girls who do.”
The slam of the door is a physical blow, the finality of it echoing in the empty apartment. I’m alone, more acutely than ever, the silence a stark reminder of the choice I couldn’t make and the love I might have lost.
I stand in the silence of the aftermath, my heart pounding, a tattoo of confusion and regret in my chest. The chill from the now-closed door seems to seep into my bones, wrapping me in the cold embrace of loneliness. I want to call after Alex to say something—anything—that might mend the tattered edges of this night. But what words could possibly bridge the chasm his departure has carved into the room?
With leaden feet, I shuffle across the hardwood floor, each step feeling like an echo of the door slamming shut—a reverberation of the goodbye I hadn’t planned to say. The apartment feels foreign, as if Alex’s anger had rearranged the very atoms of the space.
The kitchen looms ahead, a sanctuary of sorts, filled with the mundane comforts that feel so distant from the turmoil swirling inside me. There, nestled between the half-empty takeout boxes and wilted lettuce, sits salvation in the form of a carton of ice cream. I reach for it, fingers brushing against the frosty cardboard, its crystalline texture a sharp contrast to the warmth of Alex’s skin that lingers in my memory.
The freezer door swings closed with a soft thud as I peel back the lid, revealing the untouched swirls of chocolate and vanilla. It’s a small comfort, a way to numb the senses that are too raw, too exposed. The first spoonful is cold, almost painfully so, but I welcome it. It’s a different kind of pain—one that doesn’t tug at the strings of my heart.
As the flavors melt on my tongue, I sink down onto the floor, back against the fridge, knees pulled up to my chest. The carton rests in my lap, a chilly barrier against the warmth seeping out of me. With each bite, I try to freeze out the image of Nathan. But he’s there, in every spoonful, in the cold that can’t quite chase away his warmth.
Why does he have such a hold on me? Even now, when logic dictates I should be moving on, embracing the small possibility of a physical relationship that develops into something real and lasting with Alex, since there is no chance of anything happening with Nathan, now. But Nathan is like a melody that I can’t unhear, a harmony woven into the fabric of my life. His presence lingers, a ghost at the feast of my heart.
The ice cream is a poor bandage for a wound too deep, a love that was perhaps never mine to claim. Yet here I am, devouring it as if it could fill the hollow spaces left by unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.
“Damn you, Nathan Chase,” I whisper to the empty room, to the shadows that play on the walls, to the remnants of hope that refuse to fade. “Why can’t I let you go?”
But there is no answer, only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the bittersweet taste of chocolate on my tongue.