Don't Be In Love

by Liana Cincotti

The evidence of us kissing was in the dark color of his lips and the dishevelment of his hair. I hadn’t even realized I had been running my hands through it.

My cheeks were warm, but it wasn’t anything compared to Dorian’s grasp and Dorian’s urge and Dorian’s lips.

A hand from behind grabbed onto my arm and pulled me out of the cold air and back into the ballroom before I could realize what was happening.

Along with a freckle at the back of his neck that I stared at three times a week.

He stopped once we were at the center, his hand falling on my back lightly.

His other hand slipped into my right palm delicately, as if he was holding a pocket watch. Then the music began, and my chest was against his.

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I already had company,” I commented as the music rang. “I don’t think he wanted your company anymore,” he responded matter-of-factly.

The skin on my back cooled as his hand left. His thumb grazed my cheek as he lifted my mask up. He asked, “Are you questioning my intentions?”

He was flushed. It was comical. Dorian Blackwood was embarrassed.

The violins plucked fast notes. I inhaled sharply as I was released and pulled back, my spine against his chest. I stared straight ahead, for something, someone to focus on that wasn’t Dorian’s face beside mine.

“I didn’t need anyone to tell me how to find you,” he clarified. “I saw you leaning against the balcony. Your back is practically painted in my brain.”

The urge to kiss him was so potent that I had to look to the ceiling.

His focus on my back was blazing.

There was a mask shielding the top half of her face. It didn’t matter though. I could spot her from a mile away. I could see it in the curve of her jaw and the freckle at the bottom of her back.

She was kissing him back. ​I couldn’t watch. But I couldn’t stop either. It was making all of the muscles in my back stiffen and trapping my focus on her. On him. On her. On him touching her. On her kissing him. Kissing him the same way she had kissed—

Well, it looked like I was pulling her off of him and forcing her into the ballroom so that she couldn’t scream at me.

turned once the music began, taking her against my chest. I slipped my hand into hers while the other hovered over her exposed back to lead the same four steps as the rest of the crowd.

Her lips were swollen to a deep burgundy. And her big, spellbinding eyes were cut into dramatic slits; narrowed in determination. If I searched lower than her face, then all of my anger would fizzle out.

Because looking at her now—holding her, reminding myself of the coconut smell in her hair and the perfect V that connected her top lip and the bite her of words—was a mistake. I didn’t want to go.

But last night, she had also kissed me like she missed me. The same way I’ve missed her on this instinctual, primal level.

Her eyes pierced every part of the room with intention. I’d do anything to have them in my direction. Even if it meant facing a few cuts.

There was no calming the caged bird flapping its wings inside my chest when I was both close enough to see the angry crinkle above her nose as I told her she was wrong and yet still close enough to kiss her. Her eyes were piercing through me, daring me to go on.

Her lips remained tightly closed until I was releasing her and pulling her back into my chest.

I hated how much I had her memorized. I hated how much overtime my brain was running to remember her while I slept, injecting it into my dreams.

She searched my face and then plagued every thought by staring at my mouth. My hand twitched on her lower back. What if she was lying? What if she did want this?

“Adelaide, how nice to see you tonight,” Dorian commented. “Good to see you,” I responded with a closed lip smile.

“No,” they blurted out. Their hands landed on my legs. Dorian’s right hand on my left thigh and James’s left on my right. All of my blood rushed to my lap. Their hands projected catastrophic levels of heat into my skin despite the fabric of my dress dividing the grasps.

The filing cabinet in my brain that took notes on everything about him had been shifting to a Mason jar, relocating to my chest. It was filling itself with colorful notes scribbled with words he liked to use and postcards on stories he told me and scraps of fabric from the clothes he wore the most. Jam packed with private things I shouldn’t know about him.

He was building. No longer just a single-layered person, but a scrapbook-stacked human whose habits I was memorizing.

Maybe even more terrifying now as she latched onto my wrist and yanked, pulling me into the tight space and slapping her other hand over my mouth.

I got a strong whiff of the sweet coconut-scented lip gloss she wore. It gave me a headache that would reappear once my head hit my pillow tonight.

We were uncomfortably close. My hands itched to pull her closer. I could even count the number of gems in her pendant at this proximity.

Dorian dancing with someone else and—” “Not Victoria?” My heart thudded. Adelaide looked at me with wide eyes.

It’s fine, I responded, trying to relax the curve of stress between her brows. Students gossiped all the time. No, it’s not, she glared.

“Exactly. She was the only person he danced with—for the entire night. No Victoria in sight.”

“She said that his hand was very low on her back—the

I should regret the hand placement, but I didn’t. Holding her like that was enough of a fix for the withdrawals I had been having since kissing her.

Adelaide squeezed by, every part of her body brushing mine to get out of the tight space.

“He wants to see you,” he finished.

The door finally swung open. I was met with Dorian, who was in the middle of buttoning up his untucked shirt. It was a horrendous surprise. One that clutched my throat and ripped the air out, leaving me without any knowledge of how the English language worked.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I prefer you in every room.”

His body being below mine was a cruel memory. The arch of his neck to meet my gaze made my blood pump faster.

I couldn’t isolate this person from the one I had kissed. I couldn’t watch his mouth move as he spoke and not think about when they were pressed against my lips.

He cleared his throat, backing up, his hips hitting the bed. “If this is your version of seducing me,” he took a breath. “It’s working.” “Dorian,” I shook my head. “Yes,” he exhaled. “Stay still.”

I pretended that this had absolutely no effect on me. That the proximity of his face to mine did nothing to my nervous system and that his warm breath against the crown of my head didn’t make my hands shake.

I pulled my hands away once the buttons were in, avoiding using his legs that caged me in to stand back up.

“You could’ve called me.” “You’re willing to commit a federal crime?” “I would’ve shown up with a coat hanger and gum if you asked.” “A hanger and gum?” “Unravel the wire hanger, stick a piece of gum to the end, push it through the box.”

“You should be. You reached out when you didn’t want to, but because you knew it’d be good for you. That’s something to be proud of.” “Thank you,” I responded earnestly.

“I’ve missed seeing you this week,” he said. “We have class three times a week together,” I reminded him. “That’s different. I sit in front of you.”

His hand wrapped around mine on the fabric, forcing me to look up. “Just because we have a deal doesn’t mean I don’t respect your boundaries.”