PAIGE
The bathroom was a sanctuary of quiet, steam from my shower still clinging to the mirrors in soft, fading clouds. I was perched on the velvet stool, my entire world narrowed to the delicate sweep of a liquid eyeliner wing.
This was my armor. Each stroke was a layer of composure, a shield against the tidal wave of emotions today would bring. Meeting Yamada Fujii. In Tokyo. The surrealness of it still hadn't quite worn off.
Then, the air changed.
I saw his reflection in the mirror before I felt him. Reomen. He moved with that silent, predatory grace that was uniquely his, filling the doorway before filling the space around me.
He didn't say a word. His arms came around me, not a question but a statement, his chest a solid, warm wall against my back. I leaned into him instinctively, my hand pausing, the eyeliner wand hovering mid-air.
