Complacent [Duplicity Niall]

2 AM

The apartment was still, except for the faint sound of the city outside. Harry was asleep in the next room—his soft, even breathing proof of that—but everyone else was still out, drinking and laughing and forgetting. I sat cross-legged on my bed, the burner phone in my hands, thumb tracing slow circles over the cheap plastic.

I shouldn’t have answered.

I should not have answered.

But I did.

And now, I had a problem.

Malakai’s voice had been calm, almost fatherly. That was the worst part. Because he wasn’t asking me for anything yet. Just letting me know that he’d be in touch.

That he knew where I was.

That he’d always know where I was.

I hsd taken the phone and stuffed it into the mattress, shoving it deep, like I could make it disappear entirely. Maybe if I pretended hard enough, it wouldn’t be real.

I laid back, staring at the ceiling, my brain buzzing, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing.

Then I heard the door open.

Niall.

I shut my eyes for a second before sitting up.

The second he walked in, I felt it—the tight, anxious coil of insecurity in my chest.

I knew it was stupid. Irrational. But knowing didn’t make it go away.

His hair was a mess, his skin was warm, and I could smell the alcohol on him. His mouth was pink, lips a little swollen. Maybe from kissing? My stomach twisted.

I tried not to sound weird when I asked, “Have fun?”

He hummed, toeing off his shoes. “Yeah. Wasn’t the same without you, though.”

I rolled my eyes, but the words soothed something raw in me.

He moved to the bed, stretching out beside me. His arm brushed mine, casual, but heavy. “What’d you get up to?”

Lying. Scheming. Making deals with the devil.

I shrugged. “Not much. I stopped by but didn't see you. Talked to Scarlett for a minute."

"Oh. Must've been when we were with the spotter. We got that taken care of. Don't worry."

"I wasn't worried," I say. My voice too cutting.

Stop being mean to him.

"What'd you talk to Scar about?" He doesn't seem affected by my tone.

"You," I say, since technically it was true.

He made a face. “Bout how hot and irresistible I am, I presume.”

“About your fucking tab dipshit,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

Niall smirked, tipping his head to the side as he watched me. “Jealous?”

I scoffed. “Of what?”

“You tell me.”

I shoved him, but he just laughed, catching my wrist and pulling me closer. The weight of him settled over me, warm and familiar.

And then—

“Wanna have sex?”

I blinked up at him. “Wow. You sure know how to set the mood.”

He grinned, unbothered. “I’m drunk, baby. I’m not trying to write poetry here.”

I snorted, but still, my mind reeled.