"You didn't bring a jacket?" Markus dipped his head, his lips too close to my ear. A shiver wracked through me, both from the temperature outside of the restaurant and the unexpected heat of his breath against the side of my face.

It was far too late to only just be leaving the restaurant, much later than I had planned to be out tonight. They'd stopped serving food two hours ago, but the bar remained open until 11.30pm. We had stayed right until closing, and I would have felt bad if it weren't for the ridiculous tip the guys had left the staff.

Outside the restaurant, the street was dark and quiet, with only the warm glow of street lights to illuminate things. Perhaps it could have been considered romantic, walking side by side with an attractive man after an evening of good food and more than enough drinks. If I wasn't so on edge.

Markus had said little else to me, or anyone at the table, for the whole evening. Only saying the odd word here or there to remind us of his presence. As if I could forget.

He didn't touch me - despite how much I wanted to touch him - and beyond the drink and food he had ordered for me and the fact that I had been plastered to his side all evening, there had been little interaction between us at all.

I didn't know what he was thinking, or if he was still mad at me. And I was too cowardly to ask. Especially in front of his friends. I couldn't bear to risk being snapped at in front of everyone or to have him walk away from me in frustration again. I knew the decline of our last conversation was entirely my fault - he had simply tried to talk to me and I'd been purposefully difficult. If only I had simply told him I was uncomfortable with the conversation, rather than try to avoid it in the way I had.

Teeth chattering, I said, "I left it at the gym, along with my bag. I forgot how cold it gets now. And, well, I was going to call a taxi after my date, but I forgot." And now I might as well walk home instead of waiting twenty minutes out in the cold for a taxi.

What kind of idiot wears a dress this revealing without a jacket at this time of night?

Markus made a strange noise in the back of his throat.

Before I could object, his black hoodie was being shoved over the top of my head. Instantly, the warmth of his body heat, seeping from the soft fabric, enveloped me. His scent drenched the hoodie, clean and masculine. It smelled just like the aftershave he had been wearing when we first met, and the familiarity had my stomach clenching.

My arms slipped through the sleeves, and I had to twist the thick black material until it sat correctly, the hood hanging low over half my face. I shoved it back, hands smoothing out my blonde hair. Seconds later, Lynch was beside me, shoving the hood back up again.

"Dickhead," Markus grumbled to his friend, gripping his hood and yanking it back away from my face once again.

"Looking snug, Daisy." Lynch smirked, nudging his shoulder with mine before he walked ahead to catch up with Alec at the front of our little group. I said nothing, ignoring the heat in my cheeks as I ducked my face down into the hoodie, burying my hands in the pocket at the front.

"Holy moly, that's hot," Sam - who was most definitely drunk - gushed as he came up beside us. He dragged Andres behind him by the hand, staring at my thigh tattoo - the thick, detailed black snake that completely wrapped around my leg - with wide, glassy eyes.

I laughed in surprise more than anything else. "Thanks?"

"No, seriously!" Sam enthused, waving his a hand up and down in front of me. "Look at that ink! That's so freaking hot!"

"You never say mine is hot," Andres grumbled, pouting jokingly at the shorter, red-haired man.

"You have one shitty tattoo of a frog playing the banjo on your arse. That's not hot," Sam told him bluntly. "But these two-" He gestured to Markus and I. "They're hot."

It took everything in me not to follow Sam's eye-line and take part in the ogling of Markus' tattoos.

"Okay, Paris Hilton," Andres sighed, shaking his head with that pout still present. "You're a mean drunk, babe."

Sam didn't look remotely apologetic as he rolled his eyes. He turned away from us and walked off towards Alec and Lynch, still holding onto Andres' hand and pulling the much larger man behind him as if he were a small toddler that would otherwise run off. "Alec! Andres' frog butt, hot or not?"

I laughed at the wide-eyed expression Andres threw at us over his shoulder. We followed behind them at a slower pace. Mostly because I was wearing these stupid heels and I couldn't walk any faster. "He seems nice. Do you guys go out together often?"

"I've only met him a few times. Andres' too scared to ask him on a proper date."

"So, this was a group date?" I grinned, still watching the couple in front of us whom were still arguing about whether Andres' only tattoo was attractive. "That's pretty cute. I don't know why he's so scared, though. Sam's clearly head over heels for him."

Markus snorts. "It's not cute."

"Don't be such a man," I chastise lightly. "Your friend was too afraid to ask out the guy he likes, so you all went on some strange five-person double date in solidarity. That's cute."

"Six people," was all Markus deigned to say in his defence. The back of his hand brushed mine and lingered there for longer than I thought natural; and whether it was intentional didn't matter, because I was panicking all the same. I felt like I was a fucking high-schooler.

"What?" I asked, my voice tight as I tried to ignore every single ounce of attraction I felt for this man.

"Six person double date," Markus corrected. I met his eyes, and this time I was the one to look away first. "You were there for most of it."

"You can't have a double date with six people. That doesn't make sense. Six people would just be a group date - or triple date." I argued, and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why. Had I just unintentionally implied that we'd been on a date? A triple fucking date with Markus and his friends? That's not something you're supposed to do with a one-night-stand.

But Markus' only response was to raise an eyebrow at me and murmur a soft, "Oh?"

'Oh?' Fucking 'oh'? What does that mean?

I hated myself just a little as I carried on, "Yeah, five people would be a couple and a throuple. Six is three couples."

"Alec and Lynch make a stunning pair."

I wasn't at all drunk, and yet something impulsive was screaming at me to ask, 'And what about us? Do we make a good pair?' But again, I hadn't drunk enough to justify having completely lost my mind. Instead, panicking, I blurted, "What time does the gym open tomorrow?"

"Why?" If Markus had been anywhere close to flirting with me, that was gone now. He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes.

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I fiddled with the fabric of his hoodie as I continued weakly, "I left my backpack in one of the lockers and I need it for tomorrow."

I don't need it. I can just grab it tomorrow. Why am I saying this?

"You know you're not supposed to leave stuff overnight?" He said, arching his brow. He dug a hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a set of keys. Dangling them from one finger, he asked, "Do you want to go get it now?"

Did I want to walk all the way to the gym to grab my backpack? No, not at all. But, did I want to delay saying goodbye to Markus so I could spend more time with him? Absolutely.

I was going to talk to him tonight, I thought, deciding to do so at that very second. I just needed a little more time to summon the courage. The cocktails had filled me with enough confidence to come to such a decision, yet still I needed longer to rehearse what I wanted to say in my head.

"I gotta' go get my bike, anyway," he said, closing the minuscule distance between us to nudge his shoulder against mine. He didn't step away afterwards, though, and his arm continued to brush against me for the entire walk back to the gym.

***

"Do you think we should talk?" My voice was too quiet in the otherwise silence of the gym. I'd never been here after hours, when all the lights were off, and the building was empty of everyone except Markus and I. It was only 11.50pm, so I knew the gym hadn't been closed long.

Markus leant against the reception desk, his arms folded across his chest with his bike helmet sat on the desk beside him.

"About?" He asked, in a low, grumbled voice. His eyes were stuck to my legs as I approached and my steps faltered under such rapt attention.

I'd quickly changed into my exercise shorts and a long-sleeved gym top and swapped my heels for my trainers. My backpack was slung over one shoulder, and I had his hoodie bundled into my hands.

"About what happened in the library - and what happened here," I said softly, twisting the hoodie in my clenched hands, and with perhaps too much honesty added, "Things are awkward... and uncomfortable... and, I don't know, I don't like it. I want to talk about what happened."

"Okay..."

"I was a dick," I blurted out. Markus snorted, the sound morphing into a short laugh. "I'm sorry I kept cutting you off and avoiding the conversation like a little bitch instead of just straight up telling you I didn't want to talk about it. And I'm sorry if I had an attitude, or whatever. Now, I'm not apologising for not wanting to talk to you about it, 'cause, boundaries, you know? But I can understand I was being a bit of a dick and that it understandably pissed you off."

"I was just worried."

"What?"

Markus rolled his eyes. "I wasn't pissed cause you were being a dick-"

"Hey-"

"I didn't want you to get hurt."

"Because of Wraith?" I clarified.

He nodded, a flicker of annoyance in his expression. His arms flexed across his chest as he exhaled and looked towards the ceiling. "You seem to know enough about those shits to understand you should be scared of them. I didn't want you getting hurt because of us, and I couldn't help you if you didn't tell me what was going on. But maybe I don't need to worry if you're running with Jun."

"I'm not running with Jun."

Markus shot me a look. "I wouldn't know."

I bristled, hands falling to my hips. "We're basically strangers, Markus. I'm not actually obligated to tell you anything."

"If you don't want to talk about it, don't," he said bluntly. "I'm just explaining why I acted the way I did, why I was frustrated. You can't blame for making assumptions given what happened."

There was a challenge hidden in his heavy stare - or perhaps I was reading too much into it. The air between us felt tense, though. It felt worse than it had before. Somehow, in trying to fix things, I had fucked it up even more between us.

I sighed deeply and avoided his eyes as I confessed, "I have a history with Wraith, okay? Not a good one. When I saw that guy in the alley, and he asked about Lynch, I got scared and I ran. Maybe I should have stayed to talk it out, maybe then I wouldn't have assumed you were involved with them and I wouldn't have had to avoid you for so long-"

"So I was right. You were avoiding me," he said.

I narrowed my eyes at him, resisting the powerful urge to snap back at him. "Yes, yes, I was avoiding you. Happy now?"

"Immensely," he said, smugly.

How was it I still liked him, no matter how infuriating he proved himself to be? But still there sat that fear of mine, heavy in the pit of my stomach, that to involve myself with Markus was to involve myself with Wraith once more. And I had tried so, so hard to distance myself from him, even at the cost of my friendships with Jun and the others.

"So are you?" I asked meekly, fiddling with the gold chain around my neck.

"Am I what?"

"Involved with them?" I needed to know. I liked to deal in absolutes; if there were any room for speculation, I would drive myself crazy thinking up wild, convoluted scenarios.

"I fucking despise Wraith," Markus explained, and the sound of Wraith's name from his lips had my mouth twisting as if I had tasted something sour. "I'm not involved with that bastard; that's not who I am, or the life I want. But I can't promise the man you saw on Thursday won't come here again."

"So, you are involved in some capacity?"

"That guy from before, Jarred, he won't hurt you. I promise. I'm involved with him. Not Wraith, not any of those other pricks."

Only with Jarred? Why would he be involved with my brother? And why did he sound like he was familiar with him? I didn't understand what he meant and the building frustration was like he'd tied a tight scarf around my neck in a room already too warm. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"I can't be around Wraith," I told him honestly and directly. "I can't be. I won't be. So if whatever you're doing with Jarred is going to risk that, then I can't keep coming to the gym anymore."

Markus pushed off of the table and closed the distance between us. "I'll tell him not to come here again," he murmured, his face awfully close to mine and his tone surprisingly soft.

"Why would you do that?" Why are you being so considerate of me and my stupid fears? This was his gym, and whatever he did with Jarred was his business. He didn't owe me any consideration.

"Why the fuck wouldn't I?" He asked, in complete, baffling seriousness. My mouth opened to answer him, but it failed to form words. Smiling, he raised his brows at me and issued me a look filled with mirth.

"Does this mean we're good now?"

His smile broadened. "Are you going to avoid me more?"

"I've been here all week. You've been on leave. Perhaps you have been avoiding me."

"Right. Okay. We're good," he said, and abruptly took a few steps back. He looked me up and down, and sighed loudly, his expression quickly twisting into one of displeasure. "Where's your jacket?"

The annoyed tone of his voice surprised me. I shrugged. "Must have left it at work. But at least I have sleeves now," I said, holding out one of my arms to show him, like I was a small child in front of my parents, proud of being able to dress myself. Except I received absolutely zero praise from Markus, and I didn't give a fuck if he approved or not.

"Put the hoodie back on," he commanded flatly, gesturing to the thick, black fabric folded in my arms.

I didn't. "Then you'll be cold. It's freezing outside and you're only in a t-shirt."

"Daisy."

What's up with this bitch-boy attitude all of a sudden?

"Markus." I arched a brow at him and didn't move - because I was absolutely a petty person who didn't know when to quit, and I certainly didn't like being told what to do.

"Oh, for fu-" Markus grumbled under his breath. He stalked past me, back into the unlit gym. I stared after him, a little wide eyed, chest tight, and unsure what to do, except take a seat at the desk where he had just been and wait. Two minutes later, he returned, holding a black Nike running jacket.

"Happy?" He asked with a little too much attitude as he pulled it on, pulling the zip right up to his collar.

"Immensely." Eyes still wide, a small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, growing until a full grin was desperately fighting to be seen. "Where's your leather jacket? Why don't you have that if you have your bike?"

Markus crossed the space between us and stopped far too close to me. Only an inch or two separated us. I froze, my breath caught in my throat, as my eyes lifted from his Adam's apple up to meet his gaze. But he wasn't even looking at me.

Markus leant over the desk and reached beneath it, pulling out his familiar jacket and a second helmet. How much shit did they keep down there?

"Do you guys not use lockers?" I asked, remembering when Andres had kept his helmet beneath the reception desk, too. "Aren't you worried someone might steal your stuff?"

"Nobody goes behind there." Markus held out the two items towards me. I stared at them blankly.

"What?"

"This is Lynch's spare helmet," he said, as if that explained anything, and shook said item.

"Okay?" What was I supposed to say? Good for Lynch for having a spare helmet? It looks like a very nice helmet?

Markus huffed. "Take it then. I'm taking you home. You're not walking by yourself at night." My mouth opened, an objection on the tip of my tongue, but Markus was quick to cut me off. "I know you've been on Jun's bike. Take the jacket and helmet and let's go."

I bit my tongue and took the jacket he offered to me, pulling it over the top of his thick hoodie. The only times I'd only ever ridden were with Jun or Quinn. And though I knew the drive to my flat would only be five minutes as opposed to a twenty-minute walk, that was five minutes of being pressed against his back and with my arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

I wouldn't reject his offer, because the idea of walking home by myself when I was paranoid I would run into my brother or any of his idiot associates was far more terrifying a thought than salivating over Markus' physique and embarrassing myself. Even so, my heart beat heavily and my palms were sweating a little.

***

"You okay?" Markus asked in a low voice. He pulled off his helmet and frowned as I stepped back from his bike on shaky legs. I felt a little dazed as I blinked over at him. My apartment building stood behind me. He was still sat on his bike, helmet tucked under one arm, his running jacket zipped right up beneath his chin. The wind had picket up in the last half hour, and it was freezing now. Something that made the heat of his body so close to mine on our brief journey here even more thrilling.

I enjoyed that too much. I'm a horrible, horny little gremlin who can't think of anything but sex whenever I'm within five metres of this man. This poor, objectified man.

I said nothing as I hurriedly unzipped his motorcycle jacket, handing it to him. He made no move to put it on. When I gripped the bottom of the hoodie and lifted it over my head, he cleared his throat and uttered sharply, "Keep it on."

I froze and shot him a strange look.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. "At least until you're inside. You can give it back tomorrow. I'm training you again, right?"

"Right." My fingers clenched around the black material. Right. Tomorrow is Tuesday. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then."

He nodded, clearly satisfied with my answer despite the lack of enthusiasm in my voice, and went to put his helmet back on. In a tone of voice that was entirely too pointed, I asked, "Are you not putting your jacket on?"

Markus shrugged one shoulder, a movement that was neither an answer nor a complete dismissal. "I live two minutes away."

Don't remind me. The fact that you're so close to me had been on my mind since I first ran into you again. It would be so easy for me to show up impulsively at your flat whenever I feel a particular itch.

"What if you had an accident in those two minutes?"

He rolled his eyes. "I won't."

"You could."

"Daisy."

Stubbornly, I crossed my arms against my chest and made it very clear that I wasn't going inside until he did as I asked. He was such an idiot. I didn't want to show up at the gym tomorrow to find out he was in hospital because he'd fallen off his bike and scraped the shit out of himself. Biker jackets existed for a reason. "Markus."

"Fine," he huffed, with an unnecessary roll of his eyes. "I'll put it on. Now go inside before you freeze to death."

I shot him a smug smile and rolled my own eyes mockingly. "Yes, Mum."

Markus, with no amusement visible in his expression or tone, with a delivery that suggested he didn't know how much of an earth shattering effect he had on me, simply uttered in return, "I prefer 'Yes, Daddy'."

Holy shit.

I had no time to recover from his parting words. By the time my brain could think of anything other than the word 'Daddy', Markus had already driven off, leaving me to gape after him like an absolute idiot.

Who is that spare helmet for Lynch? 😏

The next chapter (Ch.13) is up on Inkitt, and will be posted to Wattpad next Friday (11th)