Till Our Hearts Cross 👨❤️💋👨 💏

Porsche

I watched as Vegas stood up abruptly, his eyes darting away from mine, the words hanging in the air like a suffocating cloud. I could feel the tremble in the space between us, that same electric charge from the kiss still vibrating through the air. He wasn't looking at me now, his gaze focused on something far away, something I couldn't reach.

And then he muttered those words, almost as if to himself. "This shouldn't have happened."

It stung. A sharp twist in my chest, like he'd just pulled the rug out from under me. But I didn't move, didn't chase after him. Instead, I sat there, trying to make sense of it. Of him. Of us.

I hadn't expected it to happen like that. I hadn't expected him to reach for me in the first place, but once his lips touched mine, it was like the rest of the world faded away. The anger, the pain, the revenge—it didn't matter. All that mattered was the tension between us, the way he melted just for a moment. And for that one brief second, it had felt like something real, something that neither of us had been willing to admit, but we both felt.

But then it was over, just as quickly as it had started. Vegas, the man who had spent so much of his life keeping everything locked up tight, had pulled away faster than I could process. And in that moment, I realized something—I wasn't sure if I was meant to comfort him or if I was just a distraction. A temporary escape from the hell he had buried himself in.

The weight of the silence between us stretched longer than it should have, thick with questions neither of us had answers to. I wanted to say something, anything, to make him stay, to fix whatever the hell was happening between us. But I couldn't find the words. I couldn't tell him what I was feeling either, because I didn't know what it was.

I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out. I was stuck, caught in the fog of whatever had just happened.

He finally turned, heading toward the door without looking back. I could feel the space growing between us, feel him distancing himself, like he was trying to outrun whatever this was. And part of me wanted to follow, wanted to pull him back and make him face it, face me. But another part of me—some part of me that was more self-protective than I liked—remained frozen in place, not sure how to move forward.

I stayed in my seat, trying to calm the racing thoughts in my head, but everything felt too fast, too intense. My body was still buzzing from the kiss, from the proximity to him. I could still feel the softness of his lips on mine, the warmth of his touch... but I knew better than to assume that meant something he was ready to confront. Vegas wasn't ready for whatever this was.

He'd shut down again, that much was clear. I could see it in the way his shoulders were tense, the way he'd pulled back so abruptly, so quickly. I wondered if he even realized how much I wanted to help him. How much I wanted to be there for him, to be something more than just another person who would disappear once the storm passed.

But I also knew something about Vegas. He wasn't someone who let others in easily, and once you were in, he didn't let go without a fight. I didn't know if I was ready for that fight—if I was ready to see just how deep his walls went, or how much of him was buried under all that anger.

For a moment, I just sat there, alone in the silence of the bar, feeling the space grow cold between us. I could feel it in my chest—the weight of it. But then, before I could talk myself out of it, I stood up quickly, moving toward the door.

I wasn't sure if I was going after him to fix it or to make things worse, but I wasn't going to let him leave like that, not after everything. Not after that.

But as I stepped into the cool night air, Vegas was already walking away, his figure a silhouette against the glow of the streetlights. My steps were slower now, hesitant, like I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. What I was even allowed to say. But I couldn't just let him go.