The Next Line ( The Lineage Series #2)

Chapter 21

"Let's just get started," she says.

I'm going to exactly remind her exactly what that night meant.

She sits across from me at the kitchen table, acting like we're just here for Spanish verbs and conjugations.

Like she didn't fall apart in my arms.
Like I didn't memorize every sound she made.
Like I don't still dream about the way her fingers tangled in my shirt when she whispered my name against my mouth.

Aurora's flipping through her notes now, avoiding eye contact like it'll save her.

But it won't.

Because I'm not letting her run from this.
Not tonight.

"Alright," I say, tapping the page between us. "Start here."

She glances at the line, clears her throat. "Tú eres alto."

I raise a brow. "And what does that mean?"

Her eyes flick to mine, like she knows I'm baiting her. "You're tall."

I smirk. "Correct. And accurate."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a flush in her cheeks now.

I point to the next sentence. "Tú estás distraída."

She stares at it for a second too long.

"What's the translation?" I ask.

Aurora swallows. "You are... distracted."

I lean back slowly in my chair. "Hmm. How fitting."

She narrows her eyes. "You did that on purpose."

"Guilty."

"You're supposed to be helping me pass," she mutters, but her lips twitch.

"Estoy ayudándote," I say. "I'm helping you."

Her gaze lifts. Our eyes lock. And I see it—
the shift.

The thing she's pretending isn't there?

It's back.

Alive and simmering beneath every syllable.

"Next one," I say, voice dropping a little. I point to the third sentence. "Tú me tocas cuando sueñas conmigo."

Her brows furrow. "That's... long."

"Say it."

She hesitates.

"C'mon, princesa," I coax, leaning forward slightly. "Just read it."

She exhales slowly, then recites, "Tú me tocas cuando sueñas conmigo."

I grin. "Good. Now translate."

She blinks at the words, translating piece by piece. "You... touch me... when you dream about me?"

"Bingo."

Her cheeks flush deeper. "Why would this be in my workbook?"

"It's not," I say, deadpan. "I wrote it in."

She gapes at me. "Joshuan!"

"What?" I say innocently. "It's a useful phrase. You never know when you might need it."

"I'm not going to need it," she hisses.

"You sure?" I ask softly, watching her squirm. "Because I haven't stopped dreaming about you."

Her breath hitches.

And suddenly, the space between us feels too small.

The air's heavier now.