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His face melted into a more refined but serious stare. He looked away for the first time, finally down at the flower in question. He didn’t smile, he didn’t frown, he gave me no clues to how he felt other than with his silence, which suddenly became profoundly still.
“Death.” He answered, the tail end of the word trickled like a stream of hourglass sand.
“And let me guess, you’re a fan?” I scoffed, assuming it was some signature look he wished to portray. If his molten brown eyes and furrowed brow didn't say it enough, the ink reaffirmed an identity.I’m a bad boy, get too close and get burned.This felt true, not just because of Claire’s warnings, but because the way his body made me feel inside.
“No. Not a fan.”
“Is it for love then?”
“In a way.”
“See, you avoid my questions too. You like to point your finger and accuse me of doing that, but you're just as much to blame.” I spun his words on him, feeling like I had finally proven a point. “It must be in your nature.”
“You’re right. That’s why we’re more similar than you think.” His reply caught me off guard. I laughed.
“We’re nothing alike. I’ll admit my dress has meaning, but I’m not sure all your tattoos do. I feel like some are superficial, a warning to keep people away. I think the ones you hide have the biggest meaning, but those aren’t the ones people see. But what do they really mean?” He made it nearly impossible to get to know him, and wasn’t that why I was here?
“And what makes you think that?”
“The angel wings on your chest.” I quickly added. “People will question the tattoo on your hand, because it’s visible. Either they can ask, or they can assume what it means. Either way there’s a narrative. Hidden angel wings with initials, now that’s specific, but you don't have to explain what people don't see.”
“But you saw them.” He challenged, hinting at a possible vulnerability that I may have overlooked. Did he allow me to see them on purpose? For a moment I sat still, the sounds of beating rain persisted on the window. It was beginning to storm harder, much like the drops that fell before the play.
“I think it’s a past lover,” I confessed. “One you don’t want to talk about.” The car came to a stop, and I honestly hadn’t realized how long we’d been driving for.
“You’re right about one thing, it's certainly something I don't like to talk about.”
A low roll of thunder tumbled above, giving me an uncomfortable chill I despised. As soon as I felt this, I was welcomed by a sudden warmth that sheltered my palm. It was Alejandro, his hand caressed mine, the black rose stared back up at me. I sucked in my lips, preventing them from parting, relishing the distraction from the man who I’d been arguing with for an entire car ride.
“You don’t?” I asked, shy from his touch. As much as I hated to acknowledge it, he was good at reading my body and knew when to touch me. He must have seen a look in my eyes, one from the thunder, and knew what I needed.
“I don’t, it’s not easy sometimes saying the things we wish to hide. But it can be easier to express ourselves in different ways.”
“That’s true…” I agreed, tempted to touch the rose for myself, but resisted.
“You may think I’m wrong, but I saw that in you, I feel like you may agree, and that’s why I brought you here.” I followed his eyes, looking past the window at a familiar building.
“The Met?” I asked, confused. I was excited, and he could tell, relishing in his cleverness.
“A place to think, to be alone.” He reminded me, repeating the words I mentioned the night of his fitting. He’d thought the city was too loud, he wanted to know where I’d go for silence, but really, he wanted to know where to take me. “Everything in there is an expression, but nothing is said out loud. Perfect for people like you and I.”
“Like us.” I agreed, looking back down at his hand, at the black rose. “Death?” I asked one last time, challenging how open he was truly willing to be.
“Mourning.” He confirmed, his eyes sunk into mine as the driver opened my door.
CHAPTER 13
The Met stretched across our path, its uniformed steps welcomed an entrance of illuminated pillars. My silent appreciation was cut short as my dress became doused by the excessive rain. I’d forgotten an umbrella but made a point to remind Parker for one as I waited outside the theatre. I missed him, reminded by the wet drops on my cheek as I made my way towards the steps.
“Not that way.” Alejandro corrected my direction, his voice lowered to my ear, heightening the awareness of how he made me flinch. His leather jacket lifted like a wing, tucking me inside. “You need to keep warm, I won’t let you get sick.”
“I won’t,” I said, almost in a promise. “I thought we were going inside.” I didn't even need to duck my head, his tall figure and shelter were enough for me to walk comfortably along his side, still, I tucked my arms in, avoiding the rain as he pulled me flush against his body. His core was feverish, almost stinging hot, echoing a reflection of my own.
“We are, but it’s not as simple as you think. Now, get closer.” He commanded, knowing it would help with the rain. I conceded, my crossed arms, brushing his sides as I followed his lead. We avoided the stone steps, walking adjacent to the street and into a patch of shrubs.
I didn't think twice as we moved off the pavement even though my heels sunk into the wet grass. It was pitch dark as the light faded from our path. I wanted to ask more but was distracted as my knuckles grazed the side of his hard torso. Even with this, the slightest touch, I experienced the defined grooves of his chiseled obliques. I hunched my shoulders, tempted to pull away, but was saved as he released his jacket from above.
“This is us.” He assured, stepping into the red illuminated enclave attached to the building. I twisted a loose strand of my wet hair, twirling it on my finger, my nervousness more apparent without the distraction of his body next to mine.
