Unspoken Rules
He knows it's absurd. Absolutely ridiculous. Criminal, really. But he throws himself towards it, lets it engulf him whole.
They don't talk about it. They don't tell anyone. He doesn't blush when he walks in the room with law enforcement in tow. He doesn't avert his gaze as they perform their show of threats bitter banter. And she doesn't use it as ammunition against him.
They try not to think about it.
She's a terrible person. She's mowed down everyone in her path, committed heinous crimes. He knows this. But he's not exactly a saint either.
A beautiful animal in a cage, he thinks. But then corrects himself. She's captive, yes, but so is he, utterly captive. Captivated.
He descends the stairs, day after day, armed with bourbon and mason jars. By now he knows how she likes her grilled cheese (provolone, grilled extra dark). He knows that though she will complain when he brings her oatmeal with cranberries and pecans, she will scrape the bowl clean with her fingers.
He expects it to feel wrong eventually. He expects the absurdity to sink in. But every day, he descends the stairs with the same feeling in his gut. The buzz of excitement. That longing.
What would he say if Nathan found out? If Audrey caught the flash of familiarity that passes across their faces as they fight? I didn't see it coming. A lie.
He kissed her first. Quick and unexpected. And she laughed, laughed right in his face.
But the laugh caught in her throat as she pushed up to meet him again. Also unexpected.
She's probably using him. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say. He's probably using her, too. And it doesn't give them pause.
He never unlocks her handcuffs. Never crosses that line. Not because he doesn't trust her. Because he doesn't trust himself. He doesn't know if he could stop, if he could keep her at arms length when she isn't bound there by chains. The game is far too dangerous as it is.
And she doesn't ever ask. Not because she thinks he'll say no. But because she doesn't trust herself to run like hell when the lock clicks open. She's afraid she'd stay.
It's one of the odd unspoken rules of this delicate balance they have struck. The pull is too insistent. The want is too profound.
The handcuffs remain to maintain their rouse. This is fine. This is normal. This won't end in blood and tears.
