Page 9 of Ashen Souls

I recognized the shift the moment I stopped playing along. The easy charm simply evaporated. Something in his expression hardened. Heat flushed my cheeks, fueled by a mix of anger, hurt, and the exhausting realization that he was punishing me for stopping his script.

“I wasn’t trying to.”

He scoffed, looking away. “Sure. Whatever. I'm sure you’ll find someone who wants to play your little fantasy games.”

My stomach knotted.

I turned toward the door, desperate to walk away.

But he couldn't resist one last cut. “Good luck finding someone who actually meets whatever delusional standard you've got in your head.”

I paused.

Then I turned back, slowly. He was watching me with injured pride.

I didn’t bother with the polite version this time. I let a jagged edge curl my mouth.

“Maybe. But at least I won’t be bored.”

His eyes widened. He hadn’t expected me to bite back.

I walked out the door before he could think of a response.

Outside, rain came down in torrential sheets, turning the uneven cobblestones slick and luminous. Streetlights bled gold into the dark puddles, and the wind pushed the damp air right beneath my collar.

I swallowed down the urge to call Harper and stepped directly into the rain.

The cold soaked through instantly, plastering my hair to my neck, seeping into my sleeves, ruining the hem of my red dress.

I walked faster, keeping my head down, hugging my coat tightly around my body. Behind me, the door of the wine bar opened, and a burst of warm laughter spilled into the street.

I didn’t look back.

A few blocks later, I stepped beneath a flickering streetlamp and took out my phone, angling the screen away from the rain. I opened the rideshare app and watched the loading wheel circle patiently.

A driver is assigned. Three minutes away.

My ride arrived with a soft hiss of tires. It was an unremarkable sedan with a tired-looking man behind the wheel. I slid into the backseat, shivering and drained.

The stagnant air smelled of cheap pine freshener and stale coffee, a mercifully bland scent that gave me something else to focus on besides the tight, breathless anxiety.

“You good?” the driver asked, glancing through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah,” I said, pulling the seatbelt across my shoulder. “Just a rough night.”

I watched the city slide by, feeling the emptiness of the date settle into my bones. Like my life was a book someone else had written, and I was stuck reading the boring parts.

The driver took a turn too sharply, and my stomach lurched.

My phone buzzed.

Chloe.

“Where are you?” she demanded the second I answered. “Mom says don’t forget Sunday. Also, I need help with my intro paragraph.”

“Chloe, it’s late.”

“So? You’re awake.”