The purple lights from the mall got smaller behind them. Aiko walked just a little behind Nash, hugging that stupid shopping bag so tight the plastic made crinkly protest noises.
Every few steps, her eyes would dart up to his back, those wide shoulders moving smoothly like a boss, hands chilling in his pockets, head tilted just enough to scan the creepy hallway ahead.
She kept looking, and she hated that she kept looking.
What is wrong with me?
The thought burned circles in her brain. She remembered standing there with no bra like an idiot, basically offering herself on a plate, then whispering "do it" like a desperate loser with zero dignity.
She swallowed hard. Her throat felt weirdly tight. Her cheeks wouldn't stop burning. Every glance at his stupid back sent another wave of feelings drowning her, wanting him, hating that she wanted him, being mad at herself for wanting him, scared he thought she was just being dramatic little Aiko again.
