Page 39 of Mine After Midnight

She starts running again, faster this time, her panic bleeding into determination. Her footfalls pound against the floor of the maze, and I fall into rhythm behind her. I anticipate each turn she takes before she makes it, slipping around corners she doesn’t notice, closing the distance without revealing myself. The thrill coils tighter in my chest with every heartbeat. A laugh escapes her. I suppress my own. We are both enjoying this game too much.

She’s forced to turn to the left and I cut across another corridor. She stumbles as my hand brushes the wall, and the vibration of her panic travels straight to me. I could step out now, reveal myself, but I decide not to. Not just yet.

The maze twists again. She rounds a corner too quickly, her momentum almost throwing her off balance. I hesitate, watching as her hands reach out before her, grasping at empty air. Then, I move, just a shadow flicking past the corner of her vision. Her gasp is sharp as she spins, trying to find me. I catch the scent of her hair. She is so close, I could reach out, but I don’t. I’m having too much fun.

The maze seems endless, but it’s easy for me to remember every curve, every corner, and every secret passage. I designed it, after all. Bryn pauses before faking a left then sprinting quickly to the right. I glide silently behind her, closer now, just steps away. Her hand searches the wall again, frantic, and I can almost hear the thought in her head: Where is he? She rounds yet another bend, thinking she’s escaped – or at least hidden – but my voice slips through the mist.

‘You can’t hide from me.’

Her head snaps toward the sound. I disappear again, melting into the fog.

‘Creepy bastard,’ she mutters.

I chuckle as she runs wildly, her movements becoming erratic and slightly desperate now. She’s nearly at the exit of the maze. I can see the faint glow of the lights at the end of the last corridor – the promise of safety, or at least the illusion of it. She thinks she’s escaped. I can see it in the way she picks up speed, the way she releases a breath of relief. Of victory.

I can’t let her be free. Not yet.

I move fast and fluidly through the shadows as she approaches the exit. I’m on her in an instant, looming in close from behind, my chest to her back, my breath brushing her ear. Her body stiffens, and I can hear the sharp intake of air she can’t suppress. I ghost my lips across her neck, causing her to shiver. I curl my arm around her, feeling her reaction beneath me, every inch of tension in her body a map I know by heart.

‘Ash.’

The way she whispers my name has me unravelling. It’s been years since she said it like that, the way she used to say it when we were younger – soft, instinctive, like it belonged to her. Like I belonged to her. God, I’ve missed that feeling – of belonging and fitting so perfectly with someone.

My hands find her waist, and I spin her around to face me, as a reminder to myself that this is real. That she is real, and really here, right in front of me. Her breath is warm against my lips; her hands are curled into my jacket like she’s afraid I’ll disappear again if she lets go.

I lean my forehead against hers, and the world finally goes quiet.

This close, I can feel everything: the heat of her skin, the uneven rhythm of her breath, the way she’s trembling just slightly, like her body hasn’t caught up to what her heart already knows. I close my eyes for a second, just to take it in. She fits perfectly against me. Years of restraint unravel in this single moment, and I let myself revel in it, in being this close, being allowed to be this close again. Her hair brushes my cheek, familiar in a way that makes my chest ache. I don’t rush it. I don’t speak. I just stay, letting the moment stretch. I’ve missed this more than I realised – the quiet intimacy, the way everything feels right when she’s this close to me.

I move my thumb without thinking, brushing it lightly along her jaw. She doesn’t pull away. That small, silent permission sends something warm and dangerous through me.

‘This,’ I murmur quietly, barely more than a breath, ‘is what I’ve wanted for a long time.’

I’m exactly where I want to be.

‘Ash,’ she whispers, tears filling her eyes.

I capture her mouth with mine before she can think too hard about it, before her panic can redirect itself into flight. The fog swirls around us, muffling the world, leaving only the heat of her skin against mine. Her hands find my chest, tugging me closer as the kiss shifts into something much more desperate and urgent. I tilt her head slightly, deepening the kiss, tasting everything she’s holding back – fear, relief, longing – all tangled up in one heated exchange that has fire shooting through my veins.

Bryn presses into me, and I forget where we are for a moment. I don’t rush it. I’ve waited far too long for this to ruin it by rushing. Her breath ghosts across my mouth. She tastes and feels just as I remember. The kiss is slower now. I feel it all: the way her lips soften against mine, the way she exhales like she’s been holding her breath for far too long. I slide my hand up her back, gently squeezing her shoulders, like I’m afraid that if I don’t anchor us here, she’ll vanish into the fog again. Underneath her leather jacket, her shirt is tight, allowing me to feel every curve – all the parts I memorised.

Her tongue sweeps against mine, sending a jolt straight through my chest. There’s recognition in it. Memory. Want. Years collapse into this single moment. I pull back for half a second, just to breathe, just to look at her. Her eyes are laden with lust, her lips are parted; she looks completely undone. And then I’m kissing her again, slower still, savouring it. The fog swirls around us, clouding over the world, and I forget about the maze, the crowd, and the masks. I forget about everything except the way she fits against me, and the way this kiss feels like the beginning of a story I’ve read before. When I finally rest my forehead against hers again, my breath is unsteady, and my pulse is loud in my ears. I don’t say anything. I don’t have to. The kiss said everything we’ve been holding back for years.

I pull back just enough to look at her wide eyes, her chest rising and falling. The fog curls around us, as if protecting this moment from the rest of the world.

‘You thought you could escape,’ I murmur, my voice rough.

‘Maybe I wanted you to catch me,’ she whispers.

I laugh, then press my lips to hers again. This time, there’s no holding back. She moans as I press her against the wall, tangling my fingers through her hair, kissing her harder and deeper than I ever have before. Longing courses through me, and I just can’t get enough. Bryn’s hands slide up underneath my shirt, dancing across my stomach before planting on my chest. Her skin on my skin feels incredible. God, I’ve missed this. Missed her.

Being back here with Bryn, I feel as if I’ve time-travelled back five years, to the days before everything got so messed up. I wish things had been different for us. I’d do anything to rewrite our history and better both of our lives, but unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. I can’t change the past, but I can control what happens now. I lost Bryn once before; I won’t let it happen again.

There’s a sharp, panicked scream that pierces through the night from somewhere else in the maze. Another group of thrill-seekers, lost in their own fear, is moving toward us, waiting for me to jump out at them. The sound slices the tension between us, pulling her attention away. She spins, heart hammering, and I know that’s my cue.

With one last glance over her shoulder, she shoots toward the exit of the maze. I let her escape, because tonight isn’t about possession. It’s about presence, about reminding her I’m here. That I never stopped being here.

Her silhouette shrinks into the distant glow of the park. Every nerve in my body is tense with wanting, waiting. The fog swirls, wrapping around me, hiding me completely now. Within a few seconds, she’s gone from my sight, but not from my mind.