𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ─────⋆⋅★𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘺

𝟐𝟒. 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

The sound of the crowd outside still pulsed in Suki's veins, the thunderous applause from her final bow like a drumbeat against her chest. She wiped the sweat from her brow, her fingers trembling with the adrenaline of the show. But it wasn't just the performance that had her heart racing.

It was him.

Drew. The way his gaze had burned through her just moments ago from the stage. The way her body had responded instantly, unbidden, like muscle memory—lips bitten in a silent dare, the tension between them crackling in the air like something alive.

She barely had a moment to catch her breath, her back still to the mirror, when the door to her dressing room burst open, slamming against the wall with a force that startled her. Suki whipped around, her heart leaping into her throat.

Drew stood there, his chest heaving, eyes dark and stormy. He didn't say anything at first. Didn't ask for permission. He just stood there, his body radiating heat, his gaze locked onto hers, like he'd been holding back for too long.

Suki's breath caught.

"Drew—" she started, but the words tangled in her throat, lost under the weight of the tension that had been simmering between them for months. And maybe even years. Maybe even past lives. Maybe future ones.

He crossed the room in three long strides, and before she could react, before she could even think, his hands were on her—hot, insistent, pulling her close. His fingers gripped her waist like he couldn't stand the distance between them for a second longer, like if he didn't touch her right now, he'd lose his mind.

Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and his lips were on hers, crashing down with a desperation that stole her breath. It wasn't a soft kiss. It wasn't gentle. It was raw, messy, as if every unsaid word, every bottled-up feeling, had finally found its escape in the heat of their mouths colliding.

Suki gasped against his lips, her hands flying to his shoulders, gripping his shirt like he was the only thing anchoring her to the earth. And maybe he was, in that moment. Drew's hands slid up her sides, cupping her face, pulling her even closer, his thumb brushing her jaw in a way that made her knees go weak.

For a second, he pulled back just enough to look at her, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against hers. "You drive me fucking crazy, Suki," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, filled with something that felt like a confession and a plea all at once.

Her heart stuttered. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, his hands trembling slightly where they held her. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing, their tangled emotions.

She swallowed hard, searching his eyes, looking for something, anything that might tell her this wasn't just a moment of weakness. But all she saw was the same longing she'd been feeling, the same desire that had been haunting her since that night months ago at the VMAs.

"Is this—" She couldn't finish the question, couldn't find the words to ask him what this was, because she wasn't sure she wanted the answer. If this was just another mistake. Another thing they'd pretend didn't mean anything tomorrow.

But Drew shook his head before she could finish. "No," he said, his voice firm, his gaze unrelenting. "This is everything."

And then his lips were on hers again, slower this time, more deliberate, but just as consuming. His hands roamed her body like he was memorising every curve, every inch of her, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Her breath hitched as his lips trailed down her jaw, her neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Her mind was a blur, her body a wildfire under his touch. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She could only feel—his hands, his mouth, the electric pull that had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface, finally igniting.