What the fuck was happening?
He pulled her arms tighter around his frame and she fucking…she smiled…she smiled and she couldn’t stop and it was the most terrifying thing she’d ever experienced. Ainsley Slater believed in love stories. She believed in princes and princesses and soulmates and all that crap, but she’d never been interested in any of that being a part of her story. So what in the fucking hell was this trembling thunderous sound inside of her? The way she pressed closer against Hayden and tucked her head against the back of his shoulder and closed her eyes so that all sensation except him melted away. She is jealous of the wind playing through his hair. Of the inky night that gets to caress the skin that is facing away from her. She wants to see if his eyes light up when he takes a turn, if he’s smiling too.
Love stories are for soft souls and Ainsley is a sharp edged monstrous creature. This isn’t love, it’s not. It’s a successful mission with unforeseen consequences. She’d wanted Hayden to belong to her, body and mind and he did now, she could feel it in his body, she had felt it in the way he claimed her at the hookah bar. But now…now under cover, with nothing but the scenery whipping by and the roar of the motorcycle she realized she’d made a mistake, she’d missed the part where she began to belong to him too. There was no love here, just two monsters who appreciated the rotted away parts of each other, just two monsters who could create nightmares and take over this town.
The ride to her place lasts forever and yet only seconds. Time gets this odd, fuzzy edged consistency to it. She’s trembling when they stop, when she gets off the bike, fists clenched at her sides while Hayden settles the bike. The second he’s off she’s tugging at him, kissing him like she’s been doing it for years, like she’s always known the taste of him. Part of her wants to beg for the familiarity of rushed roughness, wants to beg him to push her up against the dirty brick of the building’s exterior and fuck her again. But the other part of her wins, her fingers winding in his hair to claim what the wind had been enjoying, kissing him just to kiss him till she could barely breathe from the sheer weight in her chest. Then her fingers found his, twined impossibly perfectly fitted as she takes his hand and leads him up the stairs to the front door.
Words…she should say something shouldn’t she? But she can’t. She can only squeeze his hand till she’s lead him to the elevator, a grateful sigh exuding from between kiss swollen lips as the doors immediately open. And when they’re inside, when it’s just them in a small square box with cheesy fucking elevator music she leans into him, rests her head against his chest, her fingers clutching gently against the fabric of his shirt. She breaths him in, she lets him feel her trembling. And god fucking damn it she’s still smiling, a dopey uncharacteristic curve to her lips that almost hurts, strains muscles that aren’t used to such an expression. “I thought you would leave out the back door,” she admitted. “I also thought I’d grab a cab and disappear and leave you behind. But I was so sure one of those things at least was going to happen. But you…you came out the front. And I waited for you.”
If it wasn’t for the wind that whipped around his face as they rode through the silent town, Hayden would have been convinced that this was a dream. He wasn’t a man that was easily moved to a smile and yet the feeling of Ainsley pressed so tight behind him, the feeling of freedom as the rode together... It curled his lips into that unfamiliar expression. It felt like he was in some teen romantic comedy; as if right now the director was about to ask him to happily shout out into the void.
He wants to turn around to look at her so badly. He can feel her smiling into his shoulder and suddenly he’s developed an insatiable need to see her smile. Two people with so much red in their ledger nothing else was legible... They shouldn’t be deserving of the ability to smile, but here they were, smiling anyway. This was going to end terribly with the only thing on the horizon being heartbreak and disappointment. That was where this always led, wasn’t it? For Hayden, that’s all relationships had ever caused whether they were platonic or romantic. Pain. He knew this, so why did he come out the front of the bar instead of the back? Why was he riding to her apartment with her? Why was he obsessing over how well their bodies fit together?
Above all the questions, all the doubt, all the self-loathing those three words echoed. Ainsley was different. She wasn’t here to try and save him, she didn’t want to change him, she didn’t want him to get clean, or suppress his anger. All she wanted, was for him to accept it all; to own his own being and do it alongside her. Harmonic chaos. That’s what they both wanted.. No, it’s what they both needed.
They come to a stop and suddenly reality screeches into slow motion. Time ceases to exist as if they’re more important than time itself. He flicks down the stand and dismounts, his lips part to say something but hers connect before he has a chance. They kiss, and he closes his eyes, he wraps his arms around her with selfish intent. Hayden wants Ainsley all to himself, a jealous rage burning inside him as he thinks about anyone else getting to taste her decedent lips. He can feel her having to hold back from going for round two right here and now. He feels it because he has to do the exact same.
Suddenly, they’re going up in the elevator to her apartment. The only reason he notices is that, finally, their lips take a break from each other. It’s because of this that he finally gets to see that smile and... God, it’s cliche, but he skips a breath and a heartbeat because of it. His arms refuse to unwrap from around her as she pulls at his top and plays with his hair. She’s trembling, and it relaxes Hayden’s mind because that means she’s thinking the same as him. It means that this means something to her as well. “I had my hand on the back door,” he replies, a softness in his voice that she’s never heard before. “But I couldn’t open it... I-- needed to see whether you were waiting, and you were.” His hand fucking goes through her hair and tucks it behind her ear so he can see her face better, so he can see her smile better. “You’ve got me in a trap, Ainsley... And I have no desire to leave it,” the elevator doors ping open and he guides her out, rejoining their lips as they stumble together down to her front door.
He hears the key push into the door, and for a second a wave of panic floods through him. “It’s not too late for me to leave if you don’t want this... Whatever this is...” He speaks slowly, quietly, and softly, as if the walls have ears and they’re the town’s biggest secret.