Page 37 of Firefly
Then the warehouse suddenly shifts, and I feel it before I see him.
The energy changes. People glance toward the entrance and conversations lower slightly.
My stomach drops.
No.
“B, uh there’s something I forgot to mention…” I trail off as I slowly turn, and there he is.
Hayden.
A black hoodie stretched across his broad shoulders. Tight jeans. His long dirty blonde hair tied up in a bun and those green eyes that scan the room before locking directly onto mine.
“Oh shit. What the fuck!” she says in shock.
“I—” But I don’t finish the sentence, because I physically can’t.
The entire world disappears.
Music fades.
Voices vanish and air leaves my lungs.
He’s real…still real.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Just staring.
And God… the look on his face wrecks me, because beneath all the anger, darkness, and pain… he looks heartbroken too.
Hayden
“You found me-The Fray”
The second Ophelia sees me, she retreats into herself. Not physically but mentally.
Does she run?
No, my Firefly is smarter than that.
She stays at the party.
Keeps herself planted inside the warehouse surrounded by people, noise, and flashing lights.
But every single thing she does after spotting me is designed to avoid me.
And I fucking hate it.
I lean against one of the steel beams near the back wall, nursing a beer I haven’t touched while my eyes track her movements through the crowd like a predator stalking its prey.
She laughs too loudly at something Bianca says while throwing drinks back too fast for my liking. She refuses to meet my eyes but I catch her staring anyway. Every few minutes those blue eyes slide toward me before darting away again like looking at me physically hurts her.
Good.
Because she is not the only one hurting.
Music pounds through the warehouse hard enough to shake the floor while people dance beneath the hanging lights. Somewhere near the poker tables, Spade’s yelling over a card game while Bianca climbs onto someone’s shoulders, holding a beer bottle like a trophy.
