Unknown Number:
Or we can keep collecting rain checks. I don’t mind. Kind of like the mystery.
I smiled despite myself.
Which felt like a small betrayal.
Not of Dominic — not exactly. He was half-asleep beside me, warm and real and here. I hadn’t lied to him. I hadn’t touched anyone else. Was I attracted? Sure. But it was more curiosity right now. Curiosity and interest.
The fact I wanted to add one more item to my to do list though seemed the bigger problem. It was like I was distracted from the idea of who I wanted to be.
The clock was already ticking. Dominic would leave soon.
He was warm beside me, one arm heavy across my ribs, his thumb brushing lazy circles into my hip like he was still half aware of me even in sleep. His breath ghosted against the back of my neck, steady and familiar, and I let myself sink into it for just a second longer than I should have.
My schedule would close back in around me.
And I was running out of places to hide the parts of myself that wanted different things at the same time.
That was the problem.
Not that I wanted to see her.
Not that I loved him.
Not that I wanted my work and my city and my future.
It was that I wantedallof it.
And I still didn’t know how to choose without losing something.
There were too many versions of my life happening at once.
The woman Dominic woke up next to, hair tangled in his fingers, his mouth finding the same places on my skin every morning like muscle memory.
The intern René expected to be flawless.
The student Mischa wanted to see take risks.
The photographer who still hadn’t decided what she wanted to be known for.
The girl who didn’t even know the name of the person flirting with her.
All of them felt real.
All of them felt urgent.
All of them wanted more than I could give.
I typed back something safe.
Me:
One day. I promise.
I didn’t specify when. I couldn’t. There was no room for purple right now. The next few weeks didn’t look good either.
Dominic shifted in his sleep, fingers tightening briefly in my hair, his face pressing into my shoulder like he was anchoring himself there. He murmured something about how Paris suited me, voice thick and soft with exhaustion.
