Alya
I collided into something solid. Someone. Woody. Clean. Smoke curling under the skin. A hand grasps my waist, pulling me closer to steady me.
James.
"Where are you going?" he asked, voice low, too calm for someone who just caught me running.
I shoved him. Hard. "I'm not meeting them. Who the fuck is they?"
His hand dropped from my waist with ease, but not before sliding just a fraction too slow, making fire in its wake.
"You could've just said that," he said, sliding his hands in his pockets.
"You're kidding, right?" I snapped. "You locked me in a room for five hours."
I scoffed and moved to pass him.
He mirrored me.
I moved left.
So did he.
Right.
Blocked again.
My chest heaved, but I wasn't breathless from the running.
"If you'd waited, I could've taken you myself." He said slowly.
"Oh, wow. A personal escort. I'm touched." I threw my hands up. "Next time, maybe let me decide whether I want to wait in a locked cell like a hostage, or act like a human being."
