Page 55 of Redline
I said nothing, forcing myself to look anywhere but at the dark, knowing light in his eyes. I fixated on the plastic rings, my pulse still thrumming a frantic rhythm against my collarbone. He was too confident, too observant, and in this moment, it felt like he knew exactly how much space he was taking up in my head.
“It’s for charity,” he added, his voice regaining that smooth, challenging edge. He nudged the rings toward me with one finger. “Unless you’re against helping people now, too? Or are you just afraid you’ll lose?”
I rolled my eyes. “Why are you even here bothering me? This is your circus, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be on a stage somewhere, posing for photos or signing someone’s forehead?”
I meant it as a jab—a way to point out how much of a performance this all was. But Dominic didn’t scoff. He just tilted his head toward the massive platform draped in black banners, where a sea of fans was currently being held back by security.
“I was,” he said simply.
I paused, my irritation faltering.
“Caught me,” he murmured. “The view was better from up there. I saw you.”
A strange, chilling shiver raced down my spine. I didn't have a witty comeback for that. I didn't have anything.
“Hard to miss the girl looking like she wants to set the event on fire,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine with a predatory stillness. “I saw you the second you walked through the gates. Took me a bit to find a gap in the crowd to get over here.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy and charged. I felt my breath hitch—a tiny, traitorous break in my rhythm that told him his honesty had landed like a physical blow. He’d just admitted to hunting me down through a crowd of thousands, and for a second, the predatory stillness in his gaze seemed to flicker into something almost... human.
I was frozen, the gears in my head grinding to a halt. He must have seen it—the deer-in-the-headlights look I couldn't hide—because he didn't double down. He didn't lean in or press the advantage. Instead, he made a sharp, dismissive sound—a half-scoff—and turned his attention back to the counter.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he didn't even look as he tossed a ring. It sailed through the air, looping with a lazy, effortless arc before snapping onto the neck of a pylon with a sharpclack.
He was letting me off the hook. He was shifting the gravity of the moment back to this stupid, rigged carnival game, giving me a second to find my feet. Even this, I didn’t understand.
“You’re still just standing there,” he noted, his voice dropping into that intense, suffocating weight. He held out the second ring toward me, the plastic circling his thumb. “Don’t tell me the wannabe arsonist folds this easily.”
I didn't take it. I couldn't even find my voice to tell him to shove it. I just leaned back, before giving a sharp, dismissive wave of my hand—ajust-get-it-over-withgesture that felt weak even to me.
Dominic’s mouth quirked into a tease of a smirk. “Fine. Have it your way.”
He didn't aim. He didn't even settle into a stance. He simply tossed the remaining rings in quick succession, one-handed, like he was throwing away trash.
Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.
Five for five. The kid behind the counter looked like he was about to faint. “Five! That’s—that’s a clean sweep!” He scrambled toward the back wall, tripping over a crate of stuffed animals. “You get to pick your prize! The Team Bear or the Limited Edition Carbon Pillow! Which one?”
Dominic didn't look at the prizes. He was still anchored to me, his head tilted as if he were waiting for my brain to reboot. “Which one, Shortcut?”
The worker held up the two prizes, but the sight of it felt surreal. The lights around us were suddenly too bright, the noise of the crowd too distant. The fact that Dominic had abandoned his own stage just because he saw me through a gap was a thought my brain couldn't begin to process.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I just blinked at him, then at the options, and then I simply turned on my heel. I walked away, my shoes shuffling on the ground, my mind a static-filled mess ofwhyandhow.
“Hey! Wait—you forgot your—” the worker shouted, his voice high-pitched and confused.
I heard the heavy sound of something being snatched off the counter. I kept walking, but the steady, rhythmic sound of Dominic’s stride caught up to me in seconds.
He didn't grab my arm or block my path. He simply fell into step beside me, the ridiculous stuffed bear tucked under his arm like a trophy he hadn't even tried to win.
“You’re going the wrong way,” he said calmly, as if he hadn't just upended my entire night. “The exit is that way.”
“Right over there,” he pointed after another second, a low pull of amusement in his voice. “Unless you were planning on sleeping on the sidewalk? But I’m not sure the security team is prepared for a squatter that looks good in denim.”
I wasn't listening. I couldn't. My mind was stuck on the loop of him looking down from that stage, seeing me, andleaving.
“Why did you plan this?” I asked, the words tumbling out before I could filter them. I stopped walking, forcing him to halt too. “This is your event, right? This whole thing is for you.”
“Dominic!” a voice shrieked from our left. A female with a lanyard was staring at him, her eyes wide with total shock. “Oh my god, Dominic Valerio? Can I just—one photo?”
