She accepted the cigarette between her fingers like it was a dare, brushing past his hand just enough to linger. Charity didn’t look away as she took a drag, eyes fixed on him through the curl of smoke before handing it back. “My next move?” she echoed, stepping closer until the space between them was more suggestion than distance. Her shoulder nearly brushed his chest, her voice a low tease. “You think I dragged you out here with a plan? Maybe I just missed the company.”
Her smile was wicked, the kind that promised trouble. The witch tilted her head up to meet his eyes, letting her gaze drop briefly to his mouth before rising again. “Or maybe,” she added, softer now, “I just wanted to see if you’re still as fun as I remember.” Her fingers tugged lightly at his jacket, playful and intentional. “We could crash an after-party I heard about,” she mused, lips quirking as if already amused by the thought. “Raise a little hell, drink someone else’s liquor…” She leaned in closer, her breath brushing his ear. “Or we could skip it altogether, end up somewhere with fewer eyes."
Max's lips lifted a quiet smile, watching her as she dragged out her first exhale. "You took me out of there for what? No plan? I don't believe that." But anything would be more exciting especially when it pertained to Charity. A couple of years had passed between them, but he could easily remember their days in New York. It was wild and unmatched. He felt like he found someone who craved the same intensity and fire that he did. "I've never stopped being fun," he said dryly. A smile tugged to his lips and he draped an arm over her shoulders as they walked. "Tell me more about the after-party."













