MAKE IT RAIN

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

When Lev began speaking, Rowan truly did think she was going to be able to grin and bear it like she had done more than once before, her palms pressing hard into the metal hood of her Nissan.  The whole spiel about how it never should’ve happened, how it shouldn’t happen again–that she had heard so many times before she was nearly unfazed by it.  That she could steel herself through and make it to the other side like a professional.  But he kept talking; and as he kept talking the speech became individualized to him and the roots of it planted in her heart, weaving through her chest cavity like years had passed.

As he complimented her, she couldn’t even begin to process what it made her feel before it appeared on her face–her lip curling in disgust, and her feet prompt into movement by the words.  She slid off of the hood of the car, grabbing the plate of cookies and placing them on a standing ashtray in a one swoop movement.  Her eyes didn’t fall back on him until he’d finished talking, her standing at the ashtray with her arms crossed over her chest.  It wasn’t until her gaze reached his face that she realized why his rejection had wracked her resolve in a way it hadn’t ever before, it wasn’t until then that she understood what she was feeling.  It was disappointment.  Not in the situation, but in him. She had thought that he had seen her, and not just for all the feminine adjectives she used in her novels, words used to describe the ‘greatest girl ever’.  But for her strength, her ability to adapt, the way she navigated the polarity between the two worlds she knew so well with grace.  His words made it clear that he hadn’t, and that realization ripped those roots that had been deeply wound in her chest right out, her hand gripping at her chest as it manifested as a sharp pain shooting through her chest.  She had made it all up in her head, she had romanticized the shit out of him and was paying the price for it.  

“Okay” She spoke simply, already moving toward the driver’s seat of her car.  What else was there to say, what was she supposed to say?  ‘It’s okay, I understand why you wouldn’t even want to try’? She couldn’t bring herself to do it…but she also couldn’t bring herself to drive away without saying anything at all.  With her door open, feet grinding in the gravel she was parked on she looked at him again, opening and closing her mouth a few times as if she was at a loss for words.  The wordsmith stunned to silence.  

“Ya know…I could rip each and every one of your arguments to shreds but that would be just about pathetic enough to put me in my grave, so I’ll settle for this: I’m not naive enough to think that when you lay down in bed tonight you’ll think of me, but if I do happen to cross your mind tonight, do this for me.  Take a moment to comb over everything you just said and see if you can find any place where I was included in your narrative–and not as an excuse or a deflection.  See if you can find anything, because I sure can’t.”  The midnight haired woman spoke in a raspy voice, the wind catching her hair every so often as she spoke.   When she finished she shot him a sad grin, shaking her head as she moved to sit, but stopping midway to speak again.  “I’m not a kid so I don’t have very many ‘firsts’ left to record, but that was the first time someone’s used so many words to tell me they weren’t choosing me too.“  Rowan gave a tiny, airy laugh before sitting herself in her car and starting the engine.  

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

                         Lev Yegorov wasn’t a man unknown to selfishness or unaware of its existance inside of him. He’d been raised in such a violent, traumatic — and later on cold and deciplined — environment that if it weren’t for his siblings and his need for self-preservation, he would’ve never made it to the other side sane. When he thought about everything he had achieved ( from carrying through his grandmother’s name, to becoming a well-respected fighter and a accounted for asset to the people of Valencia ) and the people he’d let in along the way... The thought of losing any of that shook his core with the kind of paralyzing fear that took him back to being a little boy who didn’t yet know how to chase bad dreams away. An all-consuming emotion, igniting the need to do damage control before it’d even begun. It didn’t matter that her actual presence and influence did nothing but good to him. The man who led a life of risk couldn’t bring himself to risk losing Damien’s friendship or walk down the path of having Rowan become more and more important to him only so that he could inevitably lose her, too. Not because they could end like most relationships do, but because giving her his all meant sucking her into the blackness in the center of his heart, poisoning the rest of it like a vice that fed off other people’s blood to grow.

In that way, when it came to the after... He’d only thought of her when the aftermath came to mind. Lev was a firm believer that he couldn’t choose to share his life with someone just to ruin them or keep them at arm’s length. He’d lost friends to prison. He’d lost them to death way before their years. He’d witnessed their partners, people he looked after as if they were his own blood, swear and curse the moment they let themselves get into this mess. And, every time he went out there and did what was necessary, he lost a little piece of himself too. He could never escape or ditch that side of the organization — a side he thought wouldn’t phase him twenty years ago. But when it happened again, and again, and again... It took a toll on him. It’d take a toll on anyone with a conscience. He was a man who’d vowed to seize the day and give the people he loved all that he could, because chances were he’d be taken from them either by prison or death. Standing in front of the woman who made his heart sink and telling her the truth was the selfless choice. If he hadn’t included her in his narrative, like she’d just accused him of, he would’ve shrugged off the very real reprecautions of his actions and continued on with their secret, late-night meetings. He would’ve continued to lure her in by the seemingly free and careless front of his lifestyle until she got ruined by the blood on his hands or sought a way out — just because he wanted to be with her. He’d chosen her by letting her go.

“I’ve—” The man cleared his throat one more time. “I think of you almost every night.” It was like his voice had lost its vivid colors. He had a feeling that she was no longer listening. “I don’t think you believe me though.. Not when you talk about me makin’ up excuses.” It dawned upon him that, part of the reason why she looked so disappointed in him, was because she thought he was lying just to get her out of the way. The particular realization irked him. Why would she think that he was making shit up just to break up with her? In reality, he’d be making excuses if he stayed. "You clearly don’t wanna be here right now,” he murmured, his hands diving into his pockets. She made it clear by getting in the car and starting the engine. “I don’t blame you. But you’ve known me for a while now. If you hate me any less one of these days, ask yourself if I’ve ever lied to you or pretended about the slightest thing. Hope you at least know the answer to that.” His jaw clenched as his head lowered. “G’night, Rowan. I’m sorry.”

Flashback

Acacia nodded, relieved that she hadn’t caused him any undue harm. For a moment, her lips tipped up at the humor in her voice. From their brief collision, she knew he was solid, and that quick glance was enough for her to register his size. The woman could probably run into him at full speed, and she’d still bounce off of him. His observation made her freeze. Was it that obvious? Pressing a little more into the wall as if she could make herself disappear, acacia shook her head no at his questions. 

She managed to look up to meet his eyes, not hiding the bruises on her face and around her neck. “Please..” she begged softly. “Please don’t ask that..don’t make me tell. He’ll kill me if I tell,” Acacia pleaded softly, Gio’s warning ringing in her ears. She almost sounded childlike, and once again that night, her wide doe eyes started to tear up. Her arms tightened around herself a little more, as if she could physically hold herself together. Her warm, brown eyes caught on his mouth. She noted the slight puffiness there, and knew first hand what it felt like. 

“You’re hurt, too,” she pointed out, her voice still soft.  Impatiently, she swiped at her cheek, as if the harsher she was with herself, the faster she’d be able to hide away any hint of tears. The fear in her expression shifted into concern for him. “Are you okay?”

It was so much easier to focus on this stranger, to push away all of the pain and aches she felt in favor of someone else. Everything was so fresh, so overwhelming..focusing on this man (even if only for a few moments) was a welcome reprieve from the thoughts swirling around her mind.

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴. 》

                        Even though Lev was almost certain of the nature of the woman’s injuries as it was, the pure fear in her trembling voice that accompanied her confession erased any room for an alternative. He felt his bearded jaw clench and heard the threat in his voice when he said “No, he won’t.” A moment of pause occured, where the Bone Breaker let out a frustrated sign before attempting to soften his tone. That woman was terrified already, his angry promises couldn’t possibly be of any help. Smart hues scanned the block quickly, expectedly, and then added “Nobody’s here except for us. Nobody can hear ya.” Would that little piece of information be able to give her some hope? Was there really anything he could say that would be of help? 

The shift of focus onto him came only as a slight surprise. The shock of the encounter made him forget about the marks on his face. Once again, he didn’t look like the most reliable stranger, did he? “Oh yeah, it’s nothin’. I’m a fighter.. I work at the Rogues Club. It’s where these are from.” A finger circled around his face, pointing at the slight damage done. Nothing he hadn’t grown used to over the years. Certainly nothing in comparison to the circumstances that gave her her marks. What if those on her face weren’t the only ones? What if there was an internal bleeding somewhere? “Listen, tellin’ me that name can wait...for now. But you need to get checked up, yeah? I can take you to the hospital if you want. I got a couple friends that’ll get you better without you havin’ to wait all night in line.” Friends was a loose term. The whole Valencia Medical Center was built after his grandma took over the leadership of the organization. Lev knew half the staff in there.

closed || @levyegorov​ location || the streets of Red Ridge { FLASHBACK } Acacia was in a daze. She’d slipped out of the restaurant, and luckily avoided being seen on her way out. Her heart was still racing after being attacked, and every step seemed to exacerbate the pain.  Slender arms curled around her midsection as if to offer extra protection should her boyfriend - ex-boyfriend reappear out of nowhere. If the ache from her ribs was any indication, she’d need to take some time before trying to get another job. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, and she could feel bruises blooming across her body. She couldn’t bring herself to look in a mirror or window yet, but tentative probing with her fingers told her that she had a black eye as well as bruises on her cheek and neck. Tears stung her eyes as she did that small check, though not because of physical pain. Gio had been her boy friend and her best friend. It was stupid of her to think that someone who claimed to love her wouldn’t hurt her like this. He wasn’t even the first. Her parents had claimed to love her and they’d beaten her plenty, though in terms of violence, Gio certainly won. Add to that, the people at the restaurant, the kitchen staff as well as front of staff, had all been her family. And she’d lost them just like she’d lost the first one she’d had. And it had been just as fast.

As she teetered through the town, swaying a little with each step, Acacia curled in on herself. It was instinct to make herself smaller, but now especially, she didn’t want to invite any questions. Going home was out of the question. She was too afraid of what she would (or wouldn’t) find there. Gio had a key to her place just as she had a key to his. What if he wasn’t satisfied with letting her leave? What if he tossed her place just for the hell of it? Her arms tightened a little around herself as she walked. Who could she turn to? Nearly everyone she knew was through the industry and Gio had made it abundantly clear what would happen if she said anything to anyone about the attack. Hell, he’d made it clear that he was going to do everything he could to blackball her as it was. Thoughts tumbled though her mind, and they only paused when she collided with someone else. Acacia bounced off of them and instantly moved away from them so that her  back was against the wall of whatever store they were outside of. “I-I..I’m so sorry,” she chirped out, keeping her head down. “I should’ve watched where I was going..are you okay?” She risked a quick glance up, her heart in her throat before looking away. Her long dark hair fell in a curtain, as if by virtue of that alone, she could keep her injuries at least somewhat hidden.

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 》

                                   Lev knew the streets of Red Ridge like every cut on his ever-bruised knuckles. He knew that, by the time he stepped out of Rogues Club at 3:15am, the South was far asleep while the North was just then getting awake. Despite his deep ties to Valencia, his own apartment was located closer to the South ― away from all the buzzing and noise that’d make his long nights truly restless. Walking back to his place was a habit acquired only recently, though ( he had enough people scratching his bike after being dumb enough to bet against him ). Day after day, he came and left alone; away from people who could see the look on his face as he exited the pit. 

He didn’t expect to see anyone else on the streets this late, let alone feel someone bump into him. The kind of lifestyle he’d grown up into had to be blamed for his tendencies bouncing from suspicion to violence, the petite person’s instant withdrawl to the wall behind them being the thing that saved them from an instictive reaction to tuggle them to the ground as if they were some attacker trying to ambush him. Fiery azure hues pierced on the figure, his whole body tense, for the one moment before a feminine voice spoke. One more second passed before the fighter realized there was no danger there. His muscles relaxed as an apologetic expression formed on his facial features. “It’s okay, it happens.” The right corner of his bottom lip, slightly puffed and pained from a punch that landed there, involunterily curved into a little smirk as he listen to her concern of hurting him. She can’t be more than 5′2. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Still in one piece.”

Any humor that’d laced his tone a minute ago, vanished as soon as he caught sight of something all too familiar; something the stranger was trying to cover with the help of shadows and her own hair. “Hey, is that―” Had it not been for the street lamp nearby that lit her face, offering a contrast that allowed him to notice what she obviously wished to hide, he could’ve missed it. “You’re hurt.” His statement was every bit obvious and intrucive at once, but Lev pushed anyway. He’d never seen this woman before, certainly not in the Rogues Club as one of the fighters or those in debt. Besides, her stance ― sheltering her body as if she could make it smaller by hugging her arms around it ― made it clear to him that someone else had done this to her. “Miss, are you okay? Who did this to ya?"

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

“I do.” Rowan spoke through laughs, smacking his shoulder playfully.  “Like this…” She whispered, a delicate finger tracing his eyebrow once again by memory, her eyes drifting toward his lips instead.  “The guy you were fighting…when he’s considering a right hook he takes a half step back for he does it.  I saw it coming.”  Something about the way she spoke was sultry, like what she was saying was intimate despite how she reared back to mimic his opposition. “Of course I do.  I’ve seen you fight more than I have anyone else…I won’t tell you what I see though…I don’t want you to overthink it.” She gave a small laugh, distance closing just slightly between them as she leaned forward onto her free palm that laid flat next to the remaining cookies, shoulders squeezed into a shrug.   “You don’t know. Y’know, I think that might be up to you to not give me a reason to go to the enemy with my intel.” The brunette met his tease with her own, a wicked grin crossing lips that were just dying to claim his own–until she was stopped dead in her tracks.

And then it was loud again, her brain giving her no less than a baker’s dozen directives on how to get out, to stop the train wreck of words that were about to slip his lips.  Words he probably thought he would be the first to say, words he probably thought were unique to him, words he probably didn’t realize she saw coming form the second the anxious hesitation crossed his face.  As he pulled her hand from his face, she pulled it from his grasp and into her lap, her eyes growing dark like the pine forests she’d rather be lost in than face the inevitability of their conversation.  She’d had this conversation with a quarter dozen men from the time she was a teenager to now, sparing Serafin whose words veered sideways into her being a secret.  Her identity as a person again trumped by her identity as Damien’s sister.  She loved being Damien’s sister, they were closer than any other sibling pair she knew, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t disappointed when people couldn’t see that her personhood was more complex than that.  

And that made her feel like a fool.  A fool for thinking even for a second that because it had been different for her that it had been for him too.  Just because he quieted her brain didn’t mean she did anything for him.  It was like she had been dropped from a magnetic field, eyes that had been bound together by an invisible force causing them to search each other out when their energies crossed, now drifting.  Rowan’s eyes fell from his, hovering somewhere between the the peaks of his cheek bones and his collar bone, her head falling to the side.  The dark haired woman squared her shoulders as if bracing herself for impact, sitting up a little straighter as to not feel like the small child these conversations tended to make her feel like.  “I’m listening” She breathed out, as if she hadn’t just hardened before his eyes.  “What’s on your mind?” They both had to know that she already knew the answer to that, despite how desperately she tried to iron out the emotion in her words as she spoke.  

The writer in her had already drawn their conversation to a close, assumed the ending and was mourning the potential the pages never met–and it showed.  Her mind was racing 8 different ways, one seeming to venture into the parts of her brain she had done everything she could to bar access to.  Maybe it was a good thing–at least this time she would walk away knowing she hadn’t fucked it up.  He hadn’t given her a chance to.  The opposite had happened with Raf, having dragged on far longer than its expiration, she had fucked up fifty different ways before he turned his back on her.  

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

                            Lev almost heard a pop the second the bubble around them burst. He watched Rowan’s whole stance, attitude and demeanor change, as a pained expression took over his own facial features. He’d witnessed her withdraw before, but never around him; never because of him. If he didn’t have at least half a brain, then that would be as good of an opportunity as any to comment on the fact he’d given her a reason to go to the enemy with intel about his fighting habits five fucking seconds after she’d playfully warned him against it. He couldn’t though, not when their playfulness vanished before his eyes. “I—” If the older man had a clue as to how to phrase his concerns properly, that heartbreaking look on her face threw it out of the window. He’d much rather study her, find out what went through her mind that made her eyes turn so dark, and then wipe all of that sadness away.

Before he even phrased a word, he’d already let her down. How the fuck was he going to fix that? There was some hope reflecting in the blue of his eyes still, but deep down his gut warned him that they couldn’t talk it out and go back to how their relationship was before they kissed like he’d hoped.

“Rowan… I—I can’t. This thing between us… It shouldn’t happen again. I shouldn’t have let myself give in in the first place.” When he dealt with business or people who tried to mingle with that business, Lev had learned to be diplomatic and pull aces off his sleeve — or his ass. But when the girl he liked stared back at him with hurt in her eyes, he couldn’t sugarcoat things or lean her on to clear his name. He had to be completely honest and lay the cards down on the table all at once. “You’re…incredible. The greatest girl ever.” Truly. She was intelligent, beautiful, perceptive, and carried a warmth within her that soaked anyone in her presence. While he blamed himself for getting carried away, he couldn’t question why he felt so drawn to her. “I’m not talkin’ bullshit, I mean it. I don’t understand how the hell you chose me.“ He couldn’t describe what urged him to reassure her he was being genuine, but he wouldn’t start ignoring his own intuition then. “But you’re also my best friend’s sister.” Lev ran a calloused hand through his short blond locks as he let out a frustrated sigh. “Damien is never gonna forgive me. Hell, he’s never gonna look at me again if you and I go further.“ Something in his own words stung and made him want to bite his tongue. He didn’t want to put the blame of his decision on the other man. “I don’t blame him. Damien… He knows me. He knows how things in my life work because of what I do.” He knew all about when the Rogues Club doors close to the public at midnight — when the people in debt are tossed in the pit for him to torture for not paying their debt in time. While the Bone Breaker hadn’t opened up to anyone about what this aspect of his lifestyle did to him, not even his best friend, the other man knew he’d never been able to make a relationship last because of it. “Even you know a part of it, don’t you?” All he had was suspicions. It was possible that his friend hadn’t shared classified information about how their organization worked and punished, but his gut told him otherwise. Even if Damien had never said a word to his little sister, Rowan had spent her whole life surrounded by the people of Valencia. She had to have known. “If we got together.. I’d eventually do the same with you too, and you—” You’d see me differently. You’d choose to leave. “It’d be shitty of me to lean you on with empty promises when I know how this works.”

STATUS: closed for @levyegorov​

LOCATION: rogue’s club // 3am

“You look like shit.” The Latino shot the younger man a grin, shoving his hands deep into his front pockets as he sauntered into the backroom of rogue’s.  The weight of the later fights weighed heavy on the both of them, and Serafin knew he it.  Serafin called the shots, and Lev and the other Bone Breakers were the ones to carry them out.  Complicity weighed just as heavy.  Their banter, their chuckles, their attempts to lighten the mood didn’t cause it to waver, but that didn’t stop them from trying.  “Feel’s like we’ve bene dealin’ out more punishments than tickets to the tourists lately, brother..”  He sighed, head rolling to the side as his eyes finally met the other’s.  

—

                                  A humored snort was released as soon as the Bone Breaker heard his friend speak. “Asshole. You saw the other guy, right?” An almost empty beer bottle was brought to his lips, the liquid slipping to the left corner and leaving an annoying sting where the other man’s fist had landed, causing a small split. That hadn’t stopped him from doing his part — breaking three fingers of the knuckles that punched him — or joking about it then. After all, what the hell were all of them supposed to do with themselves at 3am if they didn’t try to make the mood just a little lighter? “Yeah..” The blond male downed the last sip of his drink before letting out a sigh and darting his eyes to meet his friend’s. So much for a lighter mood. “It counts for somethin’ though, yeah? The word’s gettin’ out.. People are gonna start payin’ up on time.” Or so he hoped. They had to. Valencia was a business that kept the town safe, not a wish granting factory. Anita Yegorova and her crew were many things, but not fools ( even if the vast majority of them would prefer a fair fight just for the fun of it than torture and punishment ). “You’ll see, your sorry ass is gonna be out of work soon.”

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

“Hey sugar..” Rowan breathed out, the words ghosting into the air like a secret, her plush lips twisting into a smirk as she reached out, the pad of her thumb grazing his split brow as if to heal it.  She knew it was coming.  The little brunette had seen it coming, possibly even before Lev had.  Lev had gone low, and his opponent took a half step back–that was his tell for a right hook; he did it every time.  It was a cheap shot, and they all knew it.  But, it also certainly wasn’t the man’s first use of it–after all, what’s a tell without prior knowledge? “You didn’t make me do anything.” Her smirk evolved into a wicked grin, the palm of her hand still pressed to the side of his face despite how her thumb had stilled over his wound.    If she hadn’t wanted to wait, she would have been long gone.

Up close, she could have drowned in the blue of his eyes.  Something about them, something about him eased her nerves, quieting her brain to a dull hum–quiet she had never known until him.  Ease she had never known until him.  To anyone who hadn’t lived with it their whole life living with Rowan’s brain would be hell, it would send a normal person spinning in circles, frantically seeking the exit.  She had never known moments where she could process the words flying through her head, taking time to put them in meaningful order in the moment.  No, that had always come later.  That’s what had made her a writer.  Her insecurities, short comings, worries, and trains of thought ending up in organized lists split between fifty different characters covering her apartment.  But with him she found peace, and she would be stupid not to soak it up.  

The second the cookies had been picked up she claimed their spot, hopping up so that she was sitting on the hood of her car, her dress riding up just slightly as she did.  “You should have said something!” Rowan laughed, nudging his shoulder with her fingertips.  “I baked about 8 dozen for a pre-teen’s birthday sleepover yesterday.”  An extra couple of dozen wouldn’t have been any extra work.  His batch was entirely separate, fresh from the oven only a couple of hours before.  In the moment, she hadn’t been quite sure if it had made her pathetic to have baked for him like a little kid or not, but seeing him enjoy them had been enough for her to sidestep that thought.  “Oh so you did that for me?”  A mischievous smirk danced across Rowan’s face, a quirked brow appearing as it did.  “It doesn’t bore me…I like watching.  I think it’s fun to watch you guys’ thought process as you choose what to do..” She gave a small chuckle, her head falling to the side as she eyed him, bottomless green eyes trained on his face.

《 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 ᵐᵃʸ ¹⁰ᵗʰ, ²⁰²⁰ 》

                                         Lev’s brother often joked that Lev put on his ‘Big Bad shoes’ when Valencia needed him — which was almost every night. Despite the fact that he would always roll his eyes and smack the back of the younger Yegorov’s neck in response, it wasn’t really a far-fetched comment. Stepping inside the pit meant harnessing every bit of anger, despair, violence and control that had forged, shaped and hurt him. When he stepped out of it, however, he had to leave it all behind. He had to focus on the good things ahead or else he’d lose his damn mind. When Lev wasn’t a Bone Breaker, he was a guy who grabbed life by the throat, seized each day without thinking ahead into his future and accessed control only when he deemed it to be absolutely necessary.

He hated every inch of his brain that told him Rowan’s case was an absolutely necessary situation. 

For every second he ignored that voice, the louder it screamed back at him, warning him that nothing could come out of this in the long run except the ruin of a lifetime long friendship and the staining of the best thing that’d happened to him in a long while. You can’t keep anyone around you. Not for long. Not like this. That peace of mind that Rowan offered him... He couldn’t bask in it, for he knew that the blackness of his lifestyle ( a lifestyle he could never escape if he tried, not with his blood and last name tying him to it for life ), embedded into his soul, would inevitably ruin it; ruin them. The hard truth that would accompany him for the rest of his life was that he’d picked a path with no return many years ago, without fully grasping all of the good things he’d miss. With the way things were, the way the organization was run, it meant that, when push came to shove, he had to prioritize Valencia’s needs over his partner’s. He didn’t want to fuck things up with her, which was why he had to hit the breaks before they reached a point of no return.

If only she didn’t make taking a step back so...damn...difficult. He leaned into her touch as if he’d felt it a million times before. His shoulders released some of their tension, loosening in a way that usually happened after he crashed into his bed. She’d always had that calming effect on him — a constant he could look to when everything around him became way too crazy. He used to be weirded out by how she seemed to know what was on his mind most of the time, but he’d grown to embrace it and become completely charmed by it; along with everything else about her. “You watch our thought process?” he echoed in jest whilst putting the plate back on the hood next to where her hips then sat. He’d left two for her — he wasn’t some greedy monster after all. She could claim the particular ones were made the previous day all she pleased and he’d let her, but they were too warm and soft for that to be true. “D’you watch mine, too? ‘Cause you know...that’s dangerous,” he mused. “How do I know you won’t go to the enemy with that vital information?” The tone in his voice teasing, the gleam of his eyes taunting as he offered a mischievous grin down at her. With his body standing in front of the hood and her feet dangling over it, it’d be so easy to close the distance between them completely — like he’d done the past couple of times they were left alone. The same fingers that had wrapped around necks like a tight vice, wrapped gently around the thin wrist of her creamy hand.

His head almost turned into her touch. His bruised lips almost planted a tender kiss on the pulse point. The more he looked into her inviting, warm gaze, the simpler it seemed to lean down and claim her lips. Instead, after a moment of inner struggle that had to be reflected on the disappointed and anxious expression of his facial features, he slowly pulled her hand down; away from his face. “Listen... I, uh—wanted to talk to you about somethin’; This,” he specified by jesturing between the two of them. Us.

“Can you please tell me what’s so damn important that you asked to meet me here?” Morgan said with a sigh. “And in the middle of a funeral for God’s sake!” She and her team were in charge of saying the last goodbyes to a very wealthy man. His widow paid for everything in cash and even a little more extra to have the cemetery closed and have no one bothering them. It was a little extreme to say the least but she could not go to complain to the woman when she was crying and tried to hug her every change she got, same with her son, a repulsive man that she was dying to kick in the balls. “Well? Speak now or forever hold you tongue!” she told the person in front of her. “I don’t want to waste my time, please! My feet are already hurting in these stupid high heels.” 

                                        Lev felt any words he’d planned get stuck on his throat. Truly, what the hell was he thinking? ( Granted, when it came to his personal life he didn’t think ahead in the first place nine times out of ten — which may explain why he got himself into such awkward situations. ) He’d tried catching Morgan’s attention all week. The facts told him—comforted him—that she’d simply been drowning in work. It couldn’t be that she avoided him because of what happened between them... Right? The blond man tried to forget about it and wave it off, but failed massively because he couldn’t get her input on it. “Uh... Hey.” Good. You interrupt a funeral so that you can say ‘hey.’. Good job, asshole. Lev sighed whilst brushing his fingertips over his short-shaved head. “Listen—I know I picked the worst time but... We need to have a chat, yeah? About...y’know.” Having sex despite the fact we’ve known each other our whole lives. “D’y’think you can spare us five minutes after you’re done? I can wait here. And y’can...take the heels off or whatever. If it’s more comfortable.”