The kiss turns rough, teeth clashing, tongues tangling. My hands are everywhere—gripping his waist, sliding under his shirt, tracing the hard muscle I’ve been starving for. He gasps against my mouth when I grind against him, the friction sparking fire low in my gut.
“Fuck, Lee,” I groan, lips dragging down his jaw to his throat. I find the pulse there, frantic under my tongue, and bite just hard enough to make him gasp. “You drive me insane. Can’t think straight without you.”
I can’t stop touching him, can’t stop drinking him in. He’s all hard muscle under my palms, heat burning through the thin black shirt that clings to his chest. His mouth tastes like salvation, like something I’ve been chasing my whole life without knowing it.
And then he stops me.
Pushes me back just enough that air slices between us, cold and cruel.
“Phoenix.” His voice is steady, too steady. “Stop.”
The word cracks me open. I can’t—Iwon’t.
“No,” I rasp, forehead pressing against his, lips brushing his when I breathe. “Don’t tell me to stop. Not when you’re here. Not when you said I wasn’t yours.”
My voice shatters, breaking on the words I’m too much of a coward to say. My chest feels like it’s caving in, like the walls of this stall are closing tighter. The coke makes my skin buzz, but the alcohol makes my head heavy, and all of it together makes me reckless. My hand fists in his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left, until I’m breathing him in like oxygen.
“Say you’re not leaving me,” I whisper, so low it’s almost a prayer. My voice shakes, raw and broken. “Say it.”
For a moment, he just stares at me. His hazel eyes are endless, cutting through the haze. He could shove me off, leave me crumpled on the bathroom floor. He should but he doesn’t.
Instead, his expression softens, melts. Like something inside him finally cracks too. His hand lifts, brushing my jaw, slow and tender in a way that makes my chest ache. His thumb traces the corner of my mouth, catching on the smear of my grin, the taste of desperation still lingering there.
“Phoenix,” he says, and this time it’s not sharp. It’s soft. It’s everything I’ve needed and never let myself have. “I’m not leaving you.”
The words gut me.
I collapse against him, pressing my forehead to his shoulder, clinging like he’s the only thing holding me up. His arms wrap around me automatically, steady and warm, pulling me tight against him.
No one’s ever held me like this. Not like I’m something worth keeping. Not like I’m allowed to be weak.
“You don’t get it,” I mutter against his neck, words slurring, spilling. “You don’t get what you do to me. I can’t—fuck. I can’t think without you. Everything’s just noise until you walk in the room.”
His hand slides up my back, slow, soothing. His breath ghosts against my temple, steady where mine stutters.
“You’re drunk,” he says gently, but he doesn’t push me away. Doesn’t pull free.
“Yeah,” I laugh, bitter and broken. “Drunk as fuck. High too. All because you didn’t call. What’s that say about me, huh?”
“That you’re a mess,” he murmurs, but there’s no bite in it. Just warmth.
“Your mess,” I shoot back, too fast, too raw. My chest heaves, my throat burns. “Tell me I’m yours.”
His silence stretches, taut. My heart slams against my ribs like it’s going to tear out, because if he says no—if he says he doesn’t want me?—
But then he exhales, long and quiet, and his hand cradles the back of my head, fingers sliding into my hair. “You’re mine.”
I lift my head, eyes locking on his. His expression is softer than I’ve ever seen it, stripped bare. It makes me reckless all over again.
I kiss him. Slower this time. Less frantic, less teeth and desperation. Just lips, pressing, lingering. His mouth gives under mine, soft and warm, and for the first time all night, the world stops spinning.
It’s gentle. And it terrifies me more than the coke, more than the fight, more than anything. Because if I let myself believe this softness is real—I won’t survive losing it.
When I finally pull back, my chest feels hollow, aching. “Don’t walk away from me again,” I whisper. “I’ll burn the whole fucking world down if you do.”
His thumb brushes my cheek again, slow, grounding. “Then don’t give me a reason to.”
The words sting, but they’re laced with something else too. Something that feels dangerously close to care. I let him pull me out of the stall, my body still buzzing, my thoughts a tangle. He steadies me like it’s second nature, like he’s done it a thousand times.
