Page 135 of Impulse Control
Just the feeling of being here.
And then my brain revved back up, like a door slamming open.
Dominic.
René.
Mischa.
Noor.
Frankie.
Every version of me lined up behind my ribs like they were waiting their turn.
I pulled back first.
Not abruptly.
Just… enough to remind myself I could.
She didn’t look hurt.
She didn’t look triumphant.
She just looked at me, eyes bright, mouth slightly parted, as if she was absorbing the moment the way I was trying to file it away.
“Hey,” she whispered, almost like a reset.
“Hey,” I replied, and my voice did something stupid again—shook at the edges.
She smiled softly. “That’s another… rain check?”
I exhaled — a sound that wasn’t entirely a laugh. “Yeah,” I said, because saying anything else felt impossible. “A rain check.”
She nodded like that was enough.
Then she stepped back, gave me one last look that felt like warmth and warning at the same time, and turned down the street.
Just like that.
No demand.
No claim.
No pressure to explain what we’d just done.
She disappeared into the early evening like she’d only ever existed in this exact moment.
I stood there longer than necessary, rain misting the air, my heart doing something messy and human in my chest.
Then my phone buzzed.
A notification.
A reminder.
A color block calling me back to my life.
