I wanna do another dedication because I love to see my little shooting stars in my notifications! Today's chapter is dedicated to @BOK_KU to thank you for all your votes and support on this story, and also, since we talked some time ago about the love triangle Dorothy/Blade/Spencer, I thought you would like this chapter 😘 

BTW it's probably my longest chapter so far, but I felt like splitting it wouldn't have worked for the flow of everything happening 😬👀

Also, I choose the music video for the song in the header because the voices in the background are perfect for the atmosphere 😈

''Cause I know I can treat you better than he can

And any girl like you deserves a gentleman

Tell me why are we wasting time

On all your wasted crying

When you should be with me instead?

I know I can treat you better

Better than he can'

"Triplet! I knew I'd chosen the best team!" Morris cheered, smoothing his mustache as the last two balls slowly rolled out of the green table, and I saluted with my imaginary hat again.

"You won... this round." Blade offered me his devious smile, the dimple adding the condition before he even did. "That makes 2-2, next round is match point."

It was tight, the game, but also all my insides at the prospect of winning or losing. I'd already seen a lot of Blade's secret places, so my curiosity should have been sated. Yet there were still so many tickles in my stomach to discover more, and also a little curiosity about what his prize could be. He still hadn't told me, and that bad intention shined each time brighter in his darkening eyes.

I could almost picture it as he observed me from the rim of his bottle of beer – well, it had been mine first to become ours, since he'd just finished the last sip.

"Do you have more time?"

Time, what was it again? I might have forgotten again. Thus, it was hard to count, and as I glimpsed the shadows falling on the street through the window, I told myself 'just a few more minutes'. Hopefully, this would be what my dad would say if he wanted to seal his deal like I wished to win this game.

"Yes, for the match point." I nodded confidently as I came back to the bad intention in Blade's eyes, which was quickly engulfed in seriousness, and for a second, I almost believed it was because he was afraid to lose – almost.

"I just have to talk to the boss two minutes before. You're okay to wait here?"

This made more sense, and it was surely the reason he'd been distracted in the last round.

"Yes, no worry," I replied with the same assurance, holding his piercing gaze as he seemed to search for the worry in my eyes. But there wasn't anymore.

If when we'd entered the bar tonight, the memories of the fight had been weighing in my steps and stomach, now, I was as light as a feather.

Some would have said it was the alcohol, and maybe it was, but it was in much more than my veins. It was in the stains on the floor that I'd realized weren't only blood when Clinton had dropped his glass, in the air that wasn't as suffocating when it was Blade's alcohol-scented breath teasing my lips, in the easy atmosphere that emanated joy and celebration, even if for just a few instants, and maybe, also in my body as it was buzzing with warmth.

"I have to go get another beer anyway."

"Another one?" He chuckled, shaking his head no.

But was it a 'no more' or 'no, I can't believe how crazy you are'?

I presented arguments for both as I pointed to the three empty bottles.

"Yes, because I didn't get more than a sip of the other ones." I pretended to be annoyed – although my large grin was probably giving it away – that he'd drunk from my bottles, when in fact, I liked to feel the taste of him and his hard liquor mixing on the bottleneck.

"Okay, charge it on mine, and ask for a closed bottle."

I didn't try to argue as his jaw clenched at the same time that his gaze flickered to the opposite side of the room, where I'd last glimpsed Rye, and I was too relieved to see his Cheshire cat's smile reappearing when I nodded obediently.

"Dudes, I leave you two minutes to get ready to lose your 'stache and dignity", he called to Morris and Wayne, though his piercing gaze stayed only on me as if he was already picturing how he would devour me like a little mouse. "And so much more."

I almost squeaked when he left a languorous kiss under my ear, and two minutes wouldn't be too much to get ready to lose – or win. I shook my head before losing it completely, while my gaze still followed his figure walking away.

Even with his black tank top and dark jeans, he was catching all the few lights around and the eyes. Everyone knew who he was and what he did; maybe they could even guess what he could become, and if they didn't, he reminded them with just a sharp glance. That was what he did when Wayne taunted,

"Yeah, yeah, run away if you're afraid..."

Just a cocked eyebrow over his shoulder was enough, and his clear eyes became even more mischievous as he caught me still watching, still shaking my head, but also laughing lightly.

I wondered if someone else caught that sparkle in his eyes, although he was already turning away, and I was still staring.

With the tickles of laughter dying down, curiosity was taking over.

I'd been so caught by the game and Blade that I hadn't noticed the 'boss' arriving, nor anything around the bar. But as Blade walked towards the dark back of the room, it wasn't hard to guess who the famous Otto was, and even though I couldn't see much with the people gathered in the corner, just a glimpse was enough to bring a weight back down on my stomach, a bad impression.

It wasn't for the same reasons as his son. Actually, if I hadn't seen Rye's frowning tonight, I wouldn't have found any common traits with the older man's rough features and tanned skin. Otto looked much calmer, more observing, and imposing, and I doubted it was only about the years' wisdom.

He had a gang leader aura like Blade, and maybe that explained the twists in my guts as I caught the two women on Otto's lap – who by the way looked much younger than him, unless it was just their heavy makeup and the puffs of smoke around their table – the cigarettes, cigars, and all the toxic substances I couldn't name, and the risks and dangers lurking in the shadows all around. Okay, I was maybe exaggerating for the last part.

I needed to stop staring. I wouldn't see anything more, and the two minutes would pass too fast if I started to let my mind wander.

I had to get a drink quickly – I was starting to understand why people were saying this. It was an excuse to explain their dizzy thoughts, and I zigzagged to the bar to justify mine.

"Hi, a bottle of beer, please." I found back my smile as I swiftly took a seat on a tall stool, and even more easily ordered a forbidden drink.

I didn't even have to show any ID or puppy eyes. This was already a victory, and it reminded me that everything about this afternoon had gone smoothly. It was such a contrast with last night. So why worry with what-ifs when it was a moment of celebration, and the biggest threat was sulking with a drink in a corner, restrained, if not grounded by his father.

Even Blade was more relaxed and open today.

"Oh, and put it on Blade's account!" I hailed the bartender as I remembered that I had nothing in my bag, except a powder compact, a priceless fidget toy, and a gun.

Though the man was already putting the bottle in front of me with a vague nod like he already knew. How, though? He was turning to a group of men on the other side of the bar before I could ask, and I was left to direct my frown to the bottle like it would answer my question or just pop open.

Of course, Blade had told me to order a closed one so I couldn't open it without him.

My fingers trailed along the droplets of condensation on the cold bottle in a pondering about going to him or just waiting for the bartender and ask him, when someone sat on the stool next to me, and the beer almost ended flowing on the floor with the question.

"So you're Blade's chick?"

All my previous questions, what-ifs, and even any thought stopped with the impact of my heart against my ribcage. Who would have thought a little possessive word would be more effective than alcohol to silence my brain?

Yet just like the drink, it left a bitter taste in the end. 'Chick', I didn't like that word, and coming from another girl, it was even more disturbing.

"Um, yes, I guess." My gaze trailed around the room in search of an answer once again.

We had never talked about this matter. Blade was my evil genie, and I was his shooting star; there was no need for something else. But the rest of the world would never understand, and when my gaze landed on him, I didn't find any other word.

He was a future gang leader, and me, what was I? The only fusing light I caught was the orangey spark near his lips, and I could almost feel the burn along my throat as I swallowed.

It was just a cigarette Otto was giving him. Yet I hadn't seen Blade smoking since that day at the Rose's diner, and the sour taste of tobacco was fainter each time we kissed, leaving more room to his unique savor. I liked it that way, and it was surely why I quickly averted my eyes away, the blur of smoke making my evil genie appear too far.

"Dorothy, my name is Dorothy." I decided to answer with the simplest, even if I still had trouble pushing the words out of my dry lips.

I would have really needed a swallow of this beer, and I held out my hand to the woman in the hope that maybe she could help me with this. Maybe we could even become friends.

After all, there was more behind appearances, smokes, and clothes, or lack of clothes. The girl looked around my age, despite her short dark blond hair and dilated pupils making it hard to guess.

"Oh, I won't botheer with it... Blade'll probably dump you... before I start to remembeer," she drawled out the words between chews of her gum, her painted eyebrows lifting at my held-out hand, which quickly turned into a fist.

Here was to being nice and polite.

I pulled my fist back, letting it go back to my bottle as my whole mouth was dry, yet the bitter burn along my throat reached my stomach with a twist as if I'd already drunk too much.

"Aw, com'on, don't tell me you thought you're ssspecial just 'cause of that little speechh... earlier?"

These were just drunk, and surely, high, words of a girl I'd just met, and I could barely make them out. Yet the slurred syllables still seared deep like alcohol on fresh wounds.

As she pouted her pulpy lips, I saw Diane's mocking smile. There was nothing comparable in them, yet so much at the same time.

"You helped his businesh, so you've got his attention a littl' longer than most of us... But he'll get bor'd after a few fucks– Oww... you didn't?" She pointed one of her long fingers in a sign that could have meant a million things, but the amusement in her smile left no doubt, and I slid my left hand under my bag, hiding the thin ring contrasting with the naked finger she was still waving.

My face was already obvious enough apparently, and I hated to be so easy to read. My eyes weren't gems; they were broken windows to my soul and the mess I was. I let them go down my silhouette as, for the first time tonight, I took in my appearance.

I'd chosen an outfit to try to fit in here: simple dark capris and a tank top with more cleavage than usual, yet what was it exposing? Except for the few freckles dotting my white skin there and my messy curls that I'd let loose because Blade had told me he liked it better that way.

What had I thought?

I was a mess, and hopelessly, I'd wished it could be enough, that I could be a hot mess, a shooting star. But here, there was no spark in me as the little nothing of my chest was shriveling into the oblivion of the universe in comparison with the girl's tight bustier top hugging her curves and pedal pushers pants and heels highlighting her tall legs.

Her crude manners and revealing clothes were nothing like Diane's, but they had two things in common: they surely both attracted a lot of men, and they were dripping fakeness towards me.

"Aw, no, you're not gonna cry... poor little thing..."

My head jerked up on her last words. I may have been a mess, among many other names, but I was tired of being compared to fragile little things.

"I'm jus' warning you... He's a good fuck, but he doesn't d–"

"Date and plan, I know." I offered her a smile so tight that I felt a spark springing inside. It wasn't the magical kind, but it was hotter.

It was frustration, anger, powerlessness, pain, and tears. Could we even make fire with tears? With the strength of the waves crashing behind my mask of indifference, I could at least make electricity.

"And that's a good thing because that's not what I'm looking for."

It was the truth, yet why did it require as much effort as telling a lie? My voice was so tight that it even managed to pull down her sneering smile, and it was a miracle her gum didn't fall out of her the O of her lips.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Oh, no, it wasn't the poor little mess I was who froze her. It was the future gang leader, and everything about him was tight: his tone, the clench of his jaw, his shoulders, and his piercing eyes.

"Blade... nothing, we were just chattin'," the woman replied with a smile, though her words came out twice faster than before as whatever drug she was on, it wasn't enough to keep her relaxed.

Nothing was stronger than Blade's sharp gaze, and it was currently on me, dismantling the facade I'd built. The smile I tried and my nod were useless. He could pierce through the mess I was, and as the blue was pouring all over my features, I feared he would reach everything inside.

"Dor–"

"Like she said. It's fine. Can you open it for me?" I focused on the bottle in my hand, though I could still feel his gaze, the clench of his jaw, and his movements towards me, everything except his contrasting voice.

"And may I know what you were talking about?"

"Oh, girl stuff..."

My wide eyes went up to take in the girl who was still there. Well, it was clear in the way she glanced around, her right hand sliding on the counter, that she was trying to sneak out discreetly. Yet once the hyena had entered the lion's den, it wasn't that easy to get out, and the big cat wasn't wearing his magical smile, but a knife in his bandaged hand as he uncapped my bottle, and he was on the lookout, mostly of my eyes when he handed me the bottle.

However, when I withdrew my hand, and he caught the jumpiness in my gesture, he glanced over his shoulder, and if I hadn't noticed the movements of the girl, he had caught – surely with his sixth sense – that she was trying to walk away.

"You," he called her when she'd barely slid down her stool.

"Linda." She puffed her generous chest, trying to keep an ounce of composure, and surely also to find her balance. But anyway, both attempts failed in front of Blade's tall and imposing figure.

"Yeah, whatever." His eyebrow lifted for a second long enough to give her a bored blank look before he continued, "Tell me what you said to Dorothy, exactly."

I would have said that was rude, but it was how it worked around here, wasn't it?

"Um, I don't remembeer... Everything and nuthin..." Her gaze flickered to me for help, or maybe it was just too much to look into Blade's tempestuous gaze.

From where I was, I could only see the cutting edge of his jaw and his clenched fists, but it was already enough to picture the deadly look in his eyes. It wasn't as strong as last night, but his easy and playful mood had been swept away somewhere between the moment he'd left the pool table and now.

He was hanging on a fine thread, a sharp edge, more exactly.

As the images of the knife three inches away from his neck flashed again in my mind, a part of me still wanted to pull like last night to bring him back to me. Yet it didn't come out the same way.

"Nothing I didn't already know."

Was I adding fuel to the fire or pouring oil to the troubled waters? I wasn't good with words, especially in this instant as my hands didn't follow, staying tightly around the bottle and my bag, and his eyes fixed me until I couldn't lie.

Yet telling the truth wouldn't help either, and maybe it wasn't the only reason. Maybe I too could be a mystery and answer cryptically. He was already reading me too easily, and if I gave him all the clues, he would pierce me like a puzzle and... get bored.

So I did the only thing to justify my overwhelming thoughts, I lifted my hand and the bottle in it.

"Okay, I guess, I'll have to refresh your memory." His words were too smooth, and this could only mean one thing...

Before I could take a sip, he put the knife at the girl's throat, and my head was spinning as I caught the sharp edge on her pale skin, so close that when she swallowed harshly, a drop of blood dripped down.

"B-blade..." The mocking and confident woman I'd met minutes ago had completely disappeared, and all that was left was a stuttering little girl, whose blown-out eyes were pleading me.

She didn't even have her gum anymore, as she'd probably gulped it with the shock.

"I'm waiting... Don't test my patience. The daily dose is already spent."

Would he really do it if she didn't reply? I knew the answer in my guts, and it wasn't surprising. He'd warned me about who he was. My heart, although going in every direction inside my chest, hadn't skipped a beat, at least, until I opened my mouth.

"You should tell him. It's fine with me." 

Were those words mine?

It was my voice, maybe just a tone lower, and my parched lips moving. Yet I didn't recognize myself as I looked into the girl's large eyes and shrugged, and I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or something more bitter in my veins making me numb.

"It's getting late. I gotta go home," I told Blade; however, my gaze didn't go farther than his bandaged hand holding the knife before I turned around and rushed out of the bar, and I didn't realize how fast I'd been until I took in a full puff in the fresh air.

It wasn't particularly fresh, but the faint breeze that brushed my face felt like a breath of oxygen after the suffocating atmosphere of the bar, and with it, I sobered up all at once, not from the few swallows of beer though, from a three weeks high.

I'd never been drunk or hungover before, but I guessed that was how it felt, and after all the adrenaline, sparks, and numbness, the sensations were coming back in my heavy muscles, along with my clear thoughts to take in what had happened. The only difference was that the throbbing pang wasn't in my head.

Not much had changed in three weeks finally, and I was still running away at the sound of my name.

"Dorothy! Wait!"

I didn't know how Blade had been so fast, but the same hand that had been holding the knife was clasping my wrist with a contrasting soft strength, and my thoughts were blurring again as he turned me to him.

"What–"

"It's fine. I just have to go home before my parents." I kept shaking my head in the hope of clearing my mind, or at least, hiding the mess I was. Yet it was with no success for both when my cracking voice continued, "Don't worry, I'll ask Pete or take the bus. You can go back inside."

I pulled my arm away, letting him go and turning away to hide the single tear that escaped when he didn't try to hold me back.

"Dorothy, I'm not him."

Actually, he drew me back, and he didn't have to use his hands for this. His low tone was enough to pin me on spot, his words reaching as deep as my chest, and his powers were magnetizing enough to make me spin slowly on my heels – after wiping my single tear, of course, because he was Blade, and he was more used to blood than tears.

If for a blurry instant, I'd confused the girl, Linda, for Diane, as they'd both made me look down at the mess I was, never ever, not even for a micro-second, I'd mistaken those piercing crystalline eyes for Spencer's brown ones. I knew each shade in both colors, although I was discovering a new transparent blue at this moment, like something was melting the sharp ice I was usually met with when he got carried away. It resulted in a contrastingly calm and tempestuous expanse drawing me in, and it was clear I would drown.

"I don't know what this bitch told you."

I widened my eyes, and it wasn't even because of the curse word. What was more shocking was the rest because the girl I'd seen looked on the verge of confessing anything.

Had he not let her the time to talk? From the way his left hand was running through his hair and pulling at the roots with frustration, I deduced that he'd followed me before getting an answer. Besides, the knife in his other hand wasn't stained, and this simple observation was enough to restart my heart faster than before. It was ready to soar when he dived his gaze in mine.

"But if it's about you, don't believe a thing she said." His voice held no hesitation, even though he had no clue about what she'd told me, and it became really scary when he added, "And if it's about me..." he paused for a second, and I wondered if it was for another reason than to stop my breathing because the crease of his eyebrows looked pretty settled.

"Chances are whatever she said is true."

Here was my heart crashing into the ground, and it was like he saw it as he added,

"I've warned you about who I am. I've never hidden it."

He'd never made promises. He wasn't him; he wasn't Spencer, and I knew it. But I was the same stupid girl, maybe even worse when I'd got attached in spite of his warnings.

I couldn't be mad at him like I was at Spencer, not even at this girl at the bar like I held a grudge against Diane. This scene was only about myself.

Like a shooting star, I was crashing with all the anger, bitterness, pain, and powerlessness imploding inside.

"I'm a criminal. I kill people. I do pretty much every illegal stuff possible, and yes, I've probably fucked every girl in this bar, and in the whole area." His sharp words came out so smoothly, the blunt truth with a shrug, while my eyes were burning to pinch closed. My fingers were itching to cover my ears, and all my instincts were thumping for me to run away.

Yet I didn't. I stood there, listening to his rolling words cut through my chest and wishing he would hold a knife to my neck instead.

"Except maybe Nancy, I heard that she has crabs." The corners of his lips dipped down like it was the most obvious thing to tell to a crashing mess. For him, it was; it was just a fact.

He fucked around. He didn't plan; he didn't date. How had I even forgotten? When he'd never made me believe anything else? When I'd kept repeating myself and everyone that was not what I wanted either? 

Yet it was the first time that the thought of him 'fucking' girls crossed my mind, and I couldn't even picture the image that all my insides were twisting from the darkest part of my guts, passing by my stomach, and higher.

"Blade, it's–"

"Let me finish."

Right, he was a killer, and he would surely make this slow and torturous. Though for me, the most dangerous was the light in the depths of his gaze that sparked hope in me and pinned me on spot.

"I did, but not anymore."

Was he talking about killing or fucking? And was it bad that if I had the choice I would have sacrificed lives?

"I haven't fucked or done anything sexual, not even a kiss with anyone else than you since about... our first date, I think."

It was bad as my heart skipped a beat with joy, though it was still shaky as he hummed in thought, and I refused to take off like a shooting star again.

"Before our first date, yes." He nodded, his gaze coming back to me and my freckles once he was sure.

Ten days, it had been ten days.

"You don't have to say this... it's okay." I looked down at my fingers, which I was twisting to not reach inside my bag.

"I don't say that 'cause I have to. It's the truth. I'm not nice, remember?"

And yet it appeared like one of the nicest things I'd ever heard as he ducked his head down, bending his knees to catch my gaze with his cocked eyebrow. He caught more than this, and I let out a shaky breath as he continued,

"I can even tell you that I tried fucking a lot of girls between the day I met you and that first date."

Why 'tried'? Actually, no, I didn't want to know, as my insides were still torn at the thought.

"But no matter what, I couldn't get this one girl out of my head... her red hair, her big shining green eyes, and the gun in her hand... What's her name?" He stroked his chin, and I would have almost questioned whom he was talking about, if there hadn't been that devious dimple slowly making an appearance.

It made me realize that it had disappeared for too long minutes, like those tingles under my skin.

"Lucy Lucas? Oh no! Shooting star." His Cheshire cat's grin was making me a shooting star again, and I concluded that he really had evil genie powers.

How would he have guessed exactly every word the girl had said that had messed me up and replaced them with sparks, otherwise?

There was only one thing keeping me from shooting up. 

"And you're not bored of me?"

"Bored?" His bandaged hand wrapped around both of mine, stopping their fiddling, and as he softly, and almost conscientiously, slid his fingers between each of mine, I could feel him reaching the same way in all my twisted and broken parts inside with his penetrating gaze, and finally, with his words.

"With your evil genius brain and foxy hot body? Nah, never."

My cheeks were on fire like the rest of my body and soul, and so many things were arising inside: the bangs of my heart, a smile, electricity in my stomach, and a lot of words to say in return.

I wanted to say that a mysterious boy had obsessed my thoughts too, his tattoos filling my sleepless mind and his Cheshire cat's grin creating sparks in my stomach, that I couldn't forget the shades of crystalline shining and darkening in his eyes, that I hadn't touched anyone else like I'd touched him, ever, that I'd gone out of my ways, and out of the line, for him, and I still would do it to be here for him, and so much more.

Though that would probably be too blunt for him, as it was already overwhelming for me, rushing in every direction from my chest and my guts to my brain, my stomach, and even my hands. I doubted the words would even make out of my lips in something else than a mess, and when my gaze trailed to his magical grin, something appeared like a much more understandable confession.

With no hesitation, I crashed all my emotions, all my truths, all of me on his smile, like a shooting star on her evil genie. I still had no other names for us, but who needed it when I had the warmth of his lips melting on mine through sparks? And I didn't need promises with his hand gripping mine.

I believed his sharp words, his piercing gaze, and his meaningful touches. I believed him. Just the way his lips were caressing mine, and for the first time, I felt like he was holding back to not push me too far or ruin this precious instant, was saying it all. Yet for the same reasons, I pulled on his lower lip, my tongue slipping its way to his to find his own unique flavor beyond the tobacco and alcohol, and with my eagerness and determination, I quickly found it, along with so much more.

Faster than a shooting star – or a sharp contrast – the restraint was gone, and the kiss became heated, passionate, and raw.

Our tongues were dashing in, meeting, and swirling, while our mouths were colliding in a mess of burning lips and teeth, and the rest of our bodies were igniting in sparks. It was the best way to sum up these last ten days: a rush of overwhelming powers and fire we couldn't control, and before we knew it, we were getting carried away. Actually, for me, it was the last three weeks, and I wasn't sure if it was an instinct tickling my guts, or just his intoxicating touch blurring my thoughts, but I felt like it was the same for him.

He was sucking the corner of my lips like for our first kiss, except that he didn't stop this time, tugging my upper lip between his teeth until a zing of desire traveled to a place I was now familiar with, and my hands pulled him closer for more. They ran from his slicked hair to his shoulders, and all over his chest, exploring like I hadn't dared to on our first date, until a groan vibrated on my parted lips, and still, we didn't stop.

Drawing those sounds from the dangerous bad boy, player and killer, had become thrilling, though not as much as those shallow sighs that were perfectly in sync with my breathless moans, and I let him tilt my head for more access.

Thankfully, I had grown more breath. With him, I was getting used to having the air knocked out of my lungs, in every possible way, good or bad. These were also in the kiss, at least, when our mouths broke apart, and my hand ended on the side of his neck to feel the strong thuds of his heart against my palm, with the fear of losing him that had struck me in the last two days, and as, in reply, his right hand on my lower back pulled me to melt closer into his tall figure, he managed to catch the last shreds of my breath.

Some things hadn't changed, though. I still felt the same sparking powder leading the bangs of my heart – except that they had turned into sparks, maybe even fusing flames, making it more powerful in my ribcage too – and when I opened my dazed eyes, his gaze was also still on me, more and more intense. But tonight, it wasn't on my freckles.

As he lifted his left hand, I realized his attention was on my large smile, which he softly brushed with a finger. It was so gentle, as if he was appreciating it. Well, he could because it was all his doing: the tingly swelling, the stretching grin, and the pure joy replacing the frown and the shakes.

Meanwhile, I gazed at the shine in his crystalline eyes. There was not even a hint of bad intention for once, just inviting blue, and of course, the shadows of desire falling like the night around.

I gasped again upon that thought, but it wasn't for the good reason.

"Oh, shoot! It's almost night!" My hand flew to my mouth, or more exactly, to his fingers, as they were still in front of my falling smile. "I really have to go home."

To think that I had used this excuse to run away, and now, my feet were anchored to the ground, and mostly, my whole body was rooted to his.

"I'll drive you. You know I ride fast." He too wasn't moving, not even his fingers, which I surely tickled when I pouted.

"We didn't even finish our game of pools again..."

"Admit it, you were scared to lose." Here was the bad intention coming back in his eyes, and fear was certainly not the word for the shiver rushing down my spine.

"Hey! You were the first one to run away!" I was hinting at tonight, and in my glee and competitive spirit, I didn't realize the possible double meaning until the words vibrated against his bandaged hand.

Thinking about it, last night and tonight weren't much different, taking away the scary part with the knife and blood, of course. We'd both got carried away by our haunting demons and still painful scars, both escaping the bar, blindly, and we'd been both caught up soon enough by the other, and this, in two following nights, in the same place. 

It was almost scary how similar we were in some way. Though what was paralyzing me in this instant was to bring back the tempest of last night in his eyes. We'd made enough chaos for the weekend.

"Maybe next time we'll run away together." Actually, I had nothing to worry about as his eyes stayed as transparent with that bad intention, and he threaded his fingers with mine, still over my lips.

The real danger was inside my chest as I considered the innuendo in his words a little too much.

"To go where? To a dark parking lot?" I lifted my eyebrows, hoping it would divert him from reading through my eyes or just my warm cheeks. But I wasn't sure it worked as his dimple deepened.

"What can I say? You really have the knack for finding the best spots, and you're making me romantic." He nodded to our side, and the spark that had arisen with his words bubbled up higher when I followed his gaze.

"Trash cans?! Again?" I burst out laughing like that day he'd invited me on our first date, feeling that silver lining closer as he joined me.

We were laughing in each other's arms, in front of cans overfilled with garbage and mostly bottles. How had I not noticed them before, especially the smell? Was it the few tears that had climbed up behind my eyes blocking my nose? Deep down, I knew the answer when I hadn't paid attention to a single dark shape in the surroundings, and I was only hearing Blade's laugh slowly calming down.

"We're a mess." I shook my head, though, in front of his cocked eyebrow, I added, " A hot mess."

That was what we were, really. An evil genie and a shooting star, we were both made of sparks, and that surely headed for disaster, but that was also where all the magic was laying.

***

I grinned to myself once I took the turn of my street. Well, more exactly, I kept the same wide smile I'd been wearing for long minutes, but since there was no one anymore to see it, it was to myself, and I at least stopped the waves of my hand when I heard the faraway roar of the engine.

I was a mess, and I wanted to scream it to the world. Though I doubted it would be a good idea when I wasn't supposed to go out, and even my friend Rachel wouldn't understand the romanticism in sharp truth, parking lots, and trash cans. So I just giggled, looking up at the stars.

I hadn't noticed they were already so many and so bright. I could almost glimpse the belt of Orion, if there hadn't been the foliage of the oak tree.

My gaze came back down to earth, and like a chain reaction, it was followed by my smile, my stomach, and all of me when I caught my dad's car.

I'd considered this eventuality, of course; that was why I'd told Blade to drop me by our usual corner, yet it had appeared blurrier and farther when I'd been under Blade's lips, lingering like his kisses along my neck, and now that it was right in front of me, the reality was hitting me.

I'd skipped the Thorntons' invitation, and while I should have stayed at home, I'd sneaked out. I had to find a plausible excuse quickly, or I would be grounded even after prom and graduation.

My head was starting to hurt from twisting in every direction and ending in dead-ends each time, and it wasn't better in my insides as I took in the illuminated windows on the first floor. Maybe I should have run away.

But before I could move towards the front door, or backward, someone flung himself at me. Well, it was for a hug, but the force of the rush and despair made me falter, and my heart felt attacked when I recognized the spicy perfume. Although I didn't have the strength to pull away when the shaky breath grazed the skin of my neck.

"DD, you're safe... I was so worried." I hadn't heard that tone in Spencer's voice since... a long time, and my hands reacted like an old reflex, or a protective instinct, sliding around his back while drawing those shapes that always soothed him.

Though today, it seemed to only make him more restless as his own fingers ran from my shoulders to my back, my cheeks, and even in my curls like he wasn't afraid to get lost there.

"My dad told me what happened..."

Of course, I should have, once more, chosen my words more carefully and have made Raymond promise to not tell anyone.

What had he told him though? Because from the wavers in his breath, it felt like he had been there, and it was enough for the same sensations to rush back in my body: the cold, the shakes, the emptiness, fear, powerlessness, loneliness...

When he tightened his embrace, I closed my eyes, letting his warmth remind me it was in the past now.

I wasn't sure who was comforting the other, and I surely shouldn't have let him so close that he could feel the loud beats of my heart. But it was just a hug, and it appeared like the thing we both needed the most in this instant.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you go... I won't ever let you go."

Was he still talking about this morning incident? It was giving rise to confusion as there was this solemn heaviness in his voice, the one used to seal promises, and I felt his head move slightly, just enough for him to look at his clasped hands, bringing me closer. It almost seemed literal as he continued,

"I was so scared... I searched for you everywhere, but you were nowhere to be found..."

Right, it explained the intensity of his embrace, if he'd looked for me all day – had he? I hadn't seen him at the church when I'd gone back for the last minutes, and then...

"You smell like alcohol and tobacco. Where were you?"

I stiffened at his words and the chills they cast between us, but before I could break away, he buried his head more in the crook of my neck.

"No, it doesn't matter. I just have one important thing to ask you."

The one condition. 'I'll do anything you want.' I remembered this detail now, my arms dropping to my sides as the hug lost all of its warmth if there was something behind it.

The worst was that I would have to accept it because I'd been the one to suggest it, and I kept my words, contrary to him.

"My dad told me it was a horse that saved you?"

I furrowed my eyebrows as he pulled away to gaze at me with his big brown eyes hanging at my lips, and he was apparently unaware of the reason why I was currently drawing blood on them.

"What–"

"Dorothea, finally! Where were you?"

If I'd thought I had frozen at the same question through Spencer's mouth, it had been nothing in comparison to how my heart stopped at my mom's severe tone.

"You said you couldn't go at the Thorntons' lunch because you were sick, and when we get home, we don't find you?" She walked towards me, tightening her shawl around her shoulders, and with each step, each word, I felt myself shriveling more.

Maybe my body was trying to disappear behind Spencer, though it was useless as her narrowed eyes were on me.

"I don't know what's happening with you these days, but this is the last straw. You're being careless, disrespectful, and now, you're affecting your dad's work with your attitude!"

I was a mess, but said like that, it sounded way less magical.

"I'm sorry..." I replied automatically as I considered what I'd done.

I'd sneaked out, lied, and failed at the perfect daughter image. Would I have done it again if I could go back in time, though?

"Oh no, this won't be enough this time, and you better told me exactly where you were."

"I..." If I'd been ready to shout it from the rooftops minutes ago, the rush was frozen as she crossed her arms expectantly.

"She was with me."

My head jerked to my side to make sure the unwavering statement was coming from the same boy who had been trembling in my arms seconds before. But yes, it was Spencer, his teddy brown eyes, his familiar perfume engulfing me again as he stepped closer, and his rosy lips that had questioned where I'd been.

"I was sick too. So she came to check on me, and then, it's my fault... I've fallen asleep, and she didn't want to wake me up. You know how sweet and considerate your daughter is." He offered a small smile, so smooth and gentle that I almost saw myself taking care of him, brushing his warm cheeks while soft, steady snores escaped those lips.

"What?! No!" I shook my head, trying to shake the image away or at least, the familiar coziness it was bringing inside my chest.

It was a lie, an illusion, just like everything before.

"No?" My mom's eyes widened, and that look was even more terrifying than her narrowed one.

I didn't know if Spencer was brave or just impudent when he tilted his head towards me. "Come on, you can tell her. She knows we were together yesterday, and we must have swapped our bugs."

He was implying that we'd kissed. Okay, we'd been one inch away from doing it, but that one inch was the important, as I'd repeated myself, and anyway, the only thing that seemed to have spread were lies. These were the most virulent.

"It's surely better that she didn't go to this dinner if it's contagious."

My mom's eyebrows fell back in a slight frown as she slowly nodded. Of course, she believed it. It was Spencer, and my flushed cheeks surely helped his lies.

"Fine, but don't dawdle outside to catch a cold on top of it."

Oh, I was far from cold, and I was barely holding everything brewing inside with the hold of my teeth and the freezing perspective of a future stuck between four walls.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Duncan. Please, just give us one minute." He offered her another smile, sweet enough to melt any trace of anger on her features and turn it into an 'I was right' lift of her chin.

There was nothing she liked more than to be right. I knew it; I'd inherited it from her. But in this instant, there were too many wrongs for me.

As soon as the click of our front door echoed, and before the curtains could move on the nearer window, I turned to Spencer.

"How did you dare?"

"Me?" He glanced from right to left as if it could have been the gardenias or the white fence that were making me boil. "I just saved you from digging yourself in deeper and giving them more arguments against you if you ever want to talk to them." It was just a whisper, the words perfectly chosen, and maybe that was what made them sear so much inside.

"Oh yes, the knight in shining armor with his lies!" I threw my hands up as something needed to get out, and for once, it wasn't tears, nor shakes. "I didn't ask for your help. So don't expect me to thank you. After all, it's only fair that you lie for me, and not to me, for once."

"I take it you haven't read my letter." His tone dropped even lower, so low that I almost didn't hear his next mutter – almost. "Of course, you were too busy..."

Had he dared again? It looked like he had.

"What does that mean?" It was rhetorical. I knew what it meant. He was reproaching me what he'd done first. "I owe you no explanation. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

The words hit me as strongly as they seemed to slap him, and my own eyes widened as I realized what I'd said. It was probably the first time I pronounced such curse words, and it wasn't hard to guess where it came from.

Though it felt so liberating, and I understood why Blade used them so much. It almost held power.

Whatever I wanted. Whatever the fuck I wanted. It changed everything.

"I don't recognize you."

The rush of power was short-lived when Spencer shook his head, his gaze running all over my silhouette like in search of the girl he'd used to know, a look that I should have looked at him with.

"Yes, you can do whatever you want. But can't you see you deserve better?" Finally, it looked like he'd found the one he'd been looking for as he bored his gleaming eyes in mine.

"And you think you're better?" I asked through gritted teeth as if this could serve as physical barrier and prevent him from finding the way inside that he knew so well, especially when he leaned closer.

"I think whoever doesn't value the precious gem you are, whoever puts you in danger doesn't deserve you," he pronounced each word slowly, making sure they grazed my lips before slipping as softly inside, and he echoed them with these shiny amber reflections not blinking away from me like a treasure.

It worked; they reached my sobered brain and my thumping heart, except that they weren't the only ones there.

"It was my choice, my plan, and Blade didn't ask me anything." I lifted my chin, making the one inch separating us even narrower. "And I would fucking do it again."

I turned on my heels, walking away with a victorious gait and a rush of power. At least, we would pretend my heart wasn't wavering as I felt his gaze following me, and I didn't freeze for a second when I reached inside my bag and found the gun Blade had given me for the bar date that was still there.

So who can treat Dorothy better? Blade and his blunt truths and dangerous world or Spencer and his smooth lies and protective instincts? 🤔😉

I hope it wasn't too long for you! I know there was a lot happening in this chapter, and it was important to put it all together, plus I didn't leave you on a cliffhanger for once 😉

Tell me all your thoughts in the comments, and don't forget to vote ⭐ if you liked this chapter! You guys are my best motivation when I'm doubting myself 🥰😘✨🌠

Also, HAPPY WOMEN'S DAY!! Here's to strong women who lift each other up, and not bring others down like that Linda! ✨