Sweat cooled on my skin. The cotton dragged across my neck. Aurora's gaze flickered downward. Then back up. A flush touched her cheeks. Victory.
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. I stared. Too long. Long enough to become aware of it. Long enough that she became aware of it too. The smile faded. Something shifted. The air changed. The city disappeared. The rain disappeared. There was only her. Only us. And that should have been a problem. Instead, it felt like peace. The most dangerous kind.
Aurora shifted her weight onto one hip. The movement drew my attention. Not because it was seductive. Because everything she did caught my attention now. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous. The way her nose wrinkled when she thought somebody was being stupid. The way she crossed her arms whenever she wanted to argue. Which was often. Far too often.
"You've been staring at me for like thirty seconds," she informed me.
"I’m going to stare a little longer."
Her cheeks turned pink. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told,” I muttered, wiping my brow with the towel.
"Repeatedly, I hope,” she hissed.
I smirked, tossing the towel away. Rain continued sliding down the windows behind her. The city beyond the glass glowed silver and gold beneath the storm clouds. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. The gym felt strangely isolated from the rest of the world. Just concrete. Steel. Rain. And Aurora.
Her gaze drifted past me. Toward the watch on my wrist. The smile faded slightly. Not sad. Thoughtful. She'd seen it before, of course. But we hadn’t talked about it since the club. The night everything started. The night she somehow looked straight through me. Most people saw the mask. Aurora had found the cracks underneath it. Dangerous girl.
"You still wear it every day,” she said. It wasn't a question. I glanced down at the silver watch.
The metal was scratched in places. Worn. Loved. The only thing I'd taken from his body that night. My thumb brushed the edge of the face automatically. A habit I'd never managed to break.
"Of course."
Silence settled between us. Gentler this time. Aurora stepped closer. The scent of apples drifted toward me. Warm, crispy and sweet. Completely at odds with the storm outside.
"Think you’ll ever take it off?" she asked softly.
I laughed once. The sound came out rough. "Take it off?"
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…” Her expression softened. I hated when she looked at me like that. Like she could see the wounds beneath my skin.
"Angelo was my twin,” I reminded her.
She nodded. "I know."
"You don't." The words came out harsher than I intended. Her eyes didn't leave mine. Most people looked away when I snapped. Aurora never did.
"I know I don't understand," she corrected quietly. "But I can still ask."
Christ. That was the problem. She never pushed. Never demanded. She just stood there and waited. Giving me the choice. Nobody in my world gave choices. I looked away first. Toward the rain. Toward the city. Toward anywhere except those damn eyes.
"He wouldn’t want me to take it off." The confession surprised even me. Aurora stayed silent. Listening. No interruptions. No pity. No bullshit. "Did I tell you we used to switch places in school?"
A small smile touched her lips. "Seriously?"
"Frequently."
"Your poor teachers,” she giggled.
"They never figured it out," I said.
A laugh escaped her. I found myself smiling. Again. Jesus Christ. I talked for several minutes. About Angelo. About motorcycles. About fights. About stupid things we'd done when we were younger. And somehow it didn't feel like being skinned alive.
It hurt. But less. A little less.
Aurora sat down on the edge of the ring. Listening. Watching. Being entirely too understanding. The woman was becoming a serious problem.
