Page 55 of Key of Kink

Quinn

The train rattled north, crowded but not unbearable.

I stood near the door, one hand gripping the pole, my body swaying with the movement of the carriage. My phone was in my pocket.

I could text. It would be easy enough. Something light and flirty. Maybe as simple as Survived. Barely, or You’re evil, or I’m still thinking about that thing you said.

It could even be as practical as Home safe.

I brushed my fingers over the edge of the phone through the denim, but I didn’t remove it. Instead, I replayed the scene. Not the physical parts, but the looks. Max’s laugh. The quiet aftercare. I leaned my head back briefly against the cool metal wall of the carriage. I didn’t feel wrecked.

I felt steady.

A notification buzzed somewhere in the carriage. I knew it wasn’t mine, but I checked anyway.

Blank screen.

I locked it again.

I’m not waiting. I just don’t want to be the one who always chases.

Grant had liked that. The pursuit, the reassurance, the constant proving. There had been times when I’d tired myself out trying to anticipate.

This feels different.

Max didn’t require pursuit, and I didn’t want to appear needy.

I’ll let this breathe. That felt like the grown-up thing to do, even if it made my chest tight.

The train jolted to a stop at Walthamstow Central and I stepped off with the crowd. I checked my phone.

Nothing.

Okay, that was fine. I didn’t need a text the second I got off the Tube. I wasn’t waiting or anything. It had been good. I knew it had. I didn’t need a message to confirm that.

Still.

I slid the phone back into my pocket a little too quickly.

Whatever.

Outside, the air was cool as I walked home, my hands in my pockets. Halfway down Farmilo Road, I gave in and pulled my phone out.

Still nothing.

I stood under a street lamp, tying with the idea of what to type.

That was fun. Too casual.

I liked tonight. Too exposed.

You were very pleased with yourself. Too teasing.

I locked the phone again.

No. Let him move first.

By the time I reached the house, I was almost proud of myself. As I stepped inside, I realised I wasn’t ready to share my evening. I headed up the stairs to my room, closing the door gently behind me. I leaned against it and closed my eyes. I could still hear his voice.