Page 14 of All the Things We Buried

THIRTEEN

LENORE

I slipped out the back door, and not a soul was awake in the house at this time. My breath hitched as I hit the gravel, the chill air licking bare skin beneath my dress. Sophie’s party was at the old graveyard again. And I didn’t want to miss it this time.

I wore a black silk dress that was tight on my skin, and my loafers clicked softly with every step. I should’ve worn boots. I felt uncomfortable. But I wanted to feel a bit different tonight.

And as I reached the end of the garden, my heart was pounding in my chest. Then it stopped when I saw him there.

Dorian was leaning against the crumbling brick wall fence like he’d been waiting for me. Smoke curled around him. One brow cocked. The glow of his cigarette framed his mouth.

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at me.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His voice was low.

I rolled my eyes, heart thudding louder. “Why do you care?”

I turned, but before I could take a full step, his hand closed around my wrist.

“I don’t,” he said, with that smirk. “Go die for all I care.”

“Die?” I laughed, but it came out a little breathless. “God, I wish.”

He didn’t laugh back. Just stared at me for a beat too long. Then let go.

“You really would, wouldn’t you?” he said, voice quieter now.

I faced him fully, lips curling. “What’s so wrong with a girl wanting a little fun?”

“Fun leads to trouble,” he said, stepping closer. “Trouble leads to you. And next thing I know.”

His words trailed off like smoke.

I tilted my head. “What?”

He stared at me for a second too long.

“Next thing I know,” he muttered, “I’m making choices I shouldn’t.”

A beat passed before I asked. “Am I a bad choice to you?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just studied me with those dark eyes. Then he said it.

“No.”

He moved closer.

I could smell the smoke on him now. But under it, there was something warmer, leather and wood.

“Wipe that look off your face,” he said, eyes flicking down to my lips.

“What look?”

“Like you want me to stop you.”

I laughed, but it sounded a little too hollow. “If I did, you would’ve.”

He tilted his head, watching me.

“Not everything that feels good is good for you,” he said, as his jaw flexed. Just a small movement, but I saw it. Felt it. He hated when I talked like that. Hated it more because I knew he wanted me to stop and never would. He preferred me with my mouth shut.

“You sound jealous,” I said, brushing past him.

“I’m not.”

He caught my arm again. He leaned in, voice brushing hot against my ear.

“If one of those idiots touches you tonight, I swear to God...”

I turned to face him, lips almost brushing his. “You’ll what? Drag me home like a good big brother?”

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t look away.

Didn’t correct me.

“I’m not your brother,” he said.

The silence wrapped around us. His eyes dropped again, slower this time, drinking me in. Then he stepped back.

“Go,” he said, jaw tight. “Do what you want. Just don’t expect me to come save you when it all goes to hell.”

“Okay,” I said, and walked away, my pulse pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

And as I walked, I could still feel his eyes on me. Burning holes in my spine. Daring me to fall.

Daring himself to follow.

The graveyard was not far away, just ten minutes by walk, but he didn’t let me walk alone.

He followed me until the entrance. I could hear the pulsing of music.

Fairy lights strung between the cracked headstones gave everything a haunted glow.

I could hear them laughing, dancing. Someone passed a bottle.

Someone else screamed. I barely noticed.

I was just walking, moving my hips and hoping Dorian was still watching.

I wanted him to be.

But I lost him as I moved through the crowd. Sophie spotted me and dragged me toward the center, already half-drunk. She wore a white dress that was already stained with a few drops of the drink she had drunk.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she slurred, pressing a red solo cup into my hand. “You look like you came to a fucking funeral.”

“Sophie,” I said, sipping. “I thought black was a color since it’s a graveyard.”

She laughed and spun off, some guy’s hand already on her waist. I stood there, alone for a moment, just before he found me.

“Didn’t take you long,” I murmured.

“I wasn’t looking for you,” Dorian said behind me.

I turned anyway.

He looked angry. That quiet, simmering kind of anger. His hair was damp from the walk, curls pushed back, black t-shirt stretched across his chest.

“You followed me.”

“You knew I would.”

“You going to babysit me all night?” I took another sip. “Or just judge from the sidelines?”

He didn’t answer, but his eyes flicked to the guy standing a little too close behind me. One of Sophie’s friends.

“You know him?” Dorian asked.

“Not really.” I tilted my head. “That a problem?”

He stepped closer.“It will be.”

“Oh, come on. I thought I wasn’t your problem.”

“You’re not,” he said. “But he’s about to be.”

The guy behind me muttered something about “chill out” and “not your girl.” Dorian didn’t even look at him. He looked at me.

Just me .

His eyes dropped to my lips. Then my neck. Then lower.

“You shouldn’t have worn that,” he said.

“Why?” I smiled slowly. “Because it makes you think things you shouldn’t?”

“Because it makes them think they can touch you.”

“And you think you’re different?”

“I don’t touch what I can’t have.”

A silence passed. Long enough to crack something between us wide open.

Then I stepped into him, closing that last inch.

“What if I want you to?” I whispered.

His jaw clenched. His hands didn’t move. But his breath hitched.

“I mean it,” he said. “If you keep looking at me like that…”

“You think you’re the only one struggling not to fall?”

His eyes moved to mine.

“I’m not falling,” he said. “I’m already down. I’m just trying not to drag you with me.”

“What if I’ve fallen too?” I asked quietly.

He paused, just for a breath. Then stepped closer like he couldn’t help himself.

“Then we’ll go to hell,” he said.

I smiled.

“If there’s a hell for people like me, you’ll be right there too. Sitting on my lap. Wearing that smile you only show me.”

His voice dropped. “But I can’t have you. Not yet. Not now.”

Anger burned through me, suddenly. I was so tired of this. Of this endless pause. Just before he turned away, I snapped.

“Then run,” I said, voice shaking. “Run from the feelings. Run from me. Run from every single thing you feel.”

He stopped.

Turned again.

And stepped in close enough for my skin to hum.

“I’m not running, Trouble,” he whispered. “I’m just chasing the silence before my mind catches up.”

His breath brushed my cheek as he added, “Because if I stay… my mind will go to places.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “And we don’t want that.”

“Fuck you,” I muttered through gritted teeth, but my voice cracked.

He just laughed. Then turned and pushed through the crowd without looking back.

I stood there alone, heart thudding in my chest, and sat down on the crumbling stone just to breathe.

I waited. I watched. Maybe he’d come back.

But he didn’t.

Maybe he really was chasing silence, but I didn’t want silence. I wanted his voice. His words. His everything. That was all I ever wanted. To talk to him. To hear him talk to me like I mattered. And maybe he did care.

But he acted like everything else came first. Like the world had a louder claim on him than I ever would. They say if someone likes you, they’ll make you a priority. The problem was, we were a priority to each other.

Just not one the world would let us keep. We were the kind of love that burned too hot. Too close.

The kind people would call wrong, just because it didn’t fit the story they believed in. And maybe our hearts screamed for each other, but our minds were the ones doing the choosing. And our minds were cowards.