I shut the door behind me with a soft thunk, and it echoes louder than it should in the lonesome hallway. The sound curls around the corners like a whisper you're not supposed to hear. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and pressed my back to the wall.
And just like that, the kiss hits me.
Not physically, obviously, though the way my lips tingle, you'd think he marked me with his mouth. It's stupid… God, it's stupid—but my fingers lift to touch where he kissed me like maybe I imagined it.
I didn't.
That kiss was real. Warm, rough, careful like I might crack apart if he held me too tight. Which is hilarious, considering I've cracked so many times I'm practically a mosaic of bad choices.
Why'd he do it? That kiss. That soft little war.
I close my eyes, and his face flashes behind my eyelids; dirt-smudged, bleeding, but looking at me like I was sunlight in a bottle.
Idiot. He's going to get himself killed because of me. And here I am, walking away.
