Darien doesn't turn around despite Heidi's question. He stays facing the night, elbows braced on the balcony railing, the city lights sprawled beneath him like a fallen constellation. Wind tugs at his damp hair and flutters the curtain behind him, carrying the faint scent of sex and soap and heat still clinging to the room.
"I don't think this will work," Darien says quietly.
Heidi freezes a step behind him, towel clutched tight around her body. "What?" she whispers.
Darien exhales slowly through his nose, like he's trying not to bare his teeth. "I said I don't think this will work. Not like this. Not with… all of this."
Morgan's smile fades as he asks. "What exactly is this supposed to mean?"
He understands what the egocentric Darien was trying to say and absolutely loves that he feels that way but of course, he needs to play oblivion.
