1 | Crossing the Line

*** Lilliana's POV

I’d arrived early, and the hotel’s parking lot was as busy as I’d imagined. I’d just be another face in a sea of people—anonymous, forgettable.

The air in my small car was thick with anticipation, a heady mix of excitement and nerves that clung to me like a second skin. I’d been sitting here too long, trapped in a loop of what-ifs. But there was something intoxicating about the waiting, about watching people filter into the hotel and trying to guess which one might be them. Him, her, them—it didn’t matter.

It all came down to trust—trusting myself. Could I let go, just for tonight? Could I trust the process… his process? The thought made me chuckle, a nervous, half-choked sound that felt more revealing than comforting. My nerves were in overdrive, and the irony wasn’t lost on me.

For nearly an hour, I watched people come and go, hoping for a sign, a clue—anything to tip the scales. Maybe I’d spot someone who looked as anxious as I felt, or someone striding in with overconfidence, a knowing glint in their eyes. Maybe they’d be scanning the parking lot, searching for me too. But no one stood out.

“Fuck it,” I muttered under my breath, grabbing the handle to finally get out of the car.  

    

*** Lilliana's POV

Thwak, shit. The door smacked against someone passing between the parked cars. The impact reverberated through the metal and into my bones. I knew I’d hit them hard.

A small grunt escaped the man I’d just blindsided with my Honda’s door.

“Jesus, so sorry, man,” I stuttered, my voice a mix of surprise and guilt. “Totally my fault. Are you okay?” Honestly, I was shocked he didn’t make more noise—I’d clocked him pretty good—and with that, my resolve for tonight wavered.

“It’s okay, happens all the time,” he replied with a shrug and a joke. I’ve always appreciated people who can make the best of a bad situation, and for the first time in what felt like years, I was genuinely charmed—by someone in person, anyway.

“Are you sure?” I asked, still feeling a bit guilty. He nodded, flashing a smile that was more than a notch above average, then continued on his way.

The encounter was enough to make me pause, so I sat back down in the car, leaving the door ajar for a breath of fresh air. I needed a moment to reset, to shake off the nerves and regain some clarity. Maybe a quick trip to the gas station across the road would help clear my mind. I could grab something simple—a bottle of water—just to bring me back to center.

As much as I’ve enjoyed our innuendo’d exchanges—the way AlphaWatcher weaves words is what’s really pulled me in. Their messages are concise, yet every word is loaded, intentional. It’s not just the explicit that captivates me; it’s the undercurrent, the way they can hint at control and understanding with just a few lines. There’s something magnetic about how they say so much with so little. I’ve always had a soft spot for those who know how to wield language like a weapon.

The idea of backing out altogether flitted through my mind, but I dismissed it. This wasn’t about running away. I just needed a little space, a moment to breathe, and then I’d come back… I had to. No… I wanted to.

I sat there a moment longer, then turned the ignition and pulled the car into the gas station across the road. Just a quick reset, then I’d head back.

Gas. Water. And then back to the hotel.