The Courtyard
Aaliyah
Salzburg in the afternoon was stunning. The golden light filtered through tree-lined streets, casting warm hues on the cobbled road as they strolled along. For once, the looming weight of her father’s search didn’t feel as heavy. Cruz had said they were in the clear—for now—and Aaliyah planned to make the most of it.
She glanced at Cruz, who, as always, had her eyes subtly scanning their surroundings. Ever watchful, ever in control. Aaliyah knew that Cruz’s sharpness wasn’t paranoia—it was survival. But today, she didn’t want survival. She wanted something… more.
“How about we stop for lunch?” Aaliyah suggested casually, gesturing toward a small café tucked between two shops. Its outdoor tables were bathed in dappled sunlight, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted through the air.
Cruz hesitated for a second too long, her eyes flicking down the street. “You sure this is a good idea?”
Aaliyah rolled her eyes, tugging lightly on Cruz’s sleeve. “Come on. Live a little.”
That earned her a look—one of those half-exasperated, half-amused glances Cruz gave when she was trying to stay serious. “Fine. But we sit where I can see the whole street.”
“Deal.” Aaliyah grinned, leading them toward an empty table near the edge of the patio.
The waiter arrived promptly, a cheerful young woman who greeted them with a friendly smile. “Good afternoon. What can I get for you today?”
Aaliyah glanced at Cruz, who gave a small nod, signaling her to go first. She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head thoughtfully before replying, “I’ll have the grilled chicken salad and a glass of white wine.”
“And for you?” The waiter turned to Cruz.
“Steak, medium rare. Just water,” Cruz said, her tone clipped but polite. The waiter nodded and walked away, leaving them in comfortable silence.
“It’s kind of fun, isn’t it? Pretending like we’re just two normal people on a lunch date?” Aaliyah teased, her grin widening.
“We’re not pretending,” Cruz said quietly, her eyes fixed on Aaliyah. “At least not about that.”
The words caught Aaliyah off guard, her playful demeanor faltering for just a second. Heat crept up her neck, and she reached for her water, taking a long sip to cover her reaction. Cruz, apparently unfazed by her own admission, leaned back in her chair, her gaze flicking back to the street.
“So, what’s the plan after lunch?” Aaliyah asked, her voice more casual than she felt. “More window shopping? Or are you going to drag me back to the suite for more combat training?”
“Depends,” Cruz said. “Are you planning to wander off the moment I blink?”
Aaliyah laughed softly. “I mean, if I do, you’ll just come find me, right?”
“Always,” Cruz replied without hesitation.
The answer was simple, direct, and so very Cruz, but it made Aaliyah’s chest tighten. There was something in the way Cruz said it—without bravado, without teasing—that made it feel like more than just a promise to keep her safe.
“Good,” Aaliyah murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “Because I’m not planning on getting lost anytime soon.”
The food arrived, and they ate in comfortable silence. Aaliyah found herself stealing glances at Cruz between bites, her mind whirling with thoughts she wasn’t quite ready to name. How had this happened? How had she gone from being a runaway bride with nowhere to turn to sitting here, sharing quiet moments and meaningful looks with the one person who had become her everything?
Cruz caught her staring once, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Aaliyah just smiled and took another sip of wine, pretending she hadn’t been caught.
“Something on your mind?” Cruz asked, her voice low but amused.
“Just thinking,” Aaliyah replied, setting her glass down. “It’s nice. Being here with you.”
Cruz didn’t respond right away, but Aaliyah saw the way her posture softened, just slightly. It was these moments—quiet, unguarded—that made her heart race. Cruz wasn’t the type to offer words easily, but she didn’t need to. Her presence, steady and unwavering, was enough.
“You ready?” Cruz asked after a while, finishing the last of her water.
Aaliyah stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s keep exploring. It’s not every day we get to pretend like we’re just… us.”
Cruz rose as well, pausing only to leave cash on the table. “Lead the way.”
Aaliyah grinned, linking her arm with Cruz’s as they stepped back into the sunlit street. The weight of danger still loomed in the background, but for now, she let herself forget it. They weren’t running. They weren’t hiding. They were just two women, walking side by side, finding moments of peace in the chaos of their lives.
--
Aaliyah felt almost weightless as they wandered past storefronts, hand in hand, blending in with the throng of tourists.
“Let’s go in here,” Aaliyah said, tugging Cruz toward a small boutique with an expensive-looking display of scarves, bags, and jewelry.
Cruz hesitated, clearly about to object, but Aaliyah didn’t give her the chance. She pulled her inside, the scent of leather and fresh linen greeting them as the door chimed softly behind them.
Inside, Aaliyah flitted from rack to rack, picking up scarves, holding up jackets to the light, and eyeing a row of sunglasses on a nearby shelf. Cruz stood by the entrance, her stance relaxed but alert, dark eyes casually sweeping the room in that ever-watchful way of hers.
“You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” Aaliyah teased, holding up a sleek black coat against herself. She turned to face Cruz, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think? Too much?”
Cruz’s gaze flicked to the coat, her expression unreadable as always. “It’s fine.”
Aaliyah huffed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Fine? You’re so helpful.” She draped the coat over her arm, moving toward a mirror to try on a floppy hat. “How about this one? Very chic, right?”
Cruz crossed her arms, her lips twitching slightly as though fighting back a smile. “You look like you’re about to star in a spy movie.”
“Well, we are kind of in one,” Aaliyah quipped, adjusting the hat with a playful grin. She tilted her head, studying Cruz’s reflection in the mirror. “You know, you could use a wardrobe upgrade yourself. Maybe something other than black?”
Cruz raised an eyebrow, her expression deadpan. “Black works.”
“You’re impossible,” Aaliyah said with a laugh, setting the hat down. “Okay, your turn. Pick something.”
“No.”
“Come on! Just one thing,” Aaliyah pressed, stepping closer and nudging Cruz lightly with her shoulder. “You never know—you might actually enjoy it.”
Cruz sighed but allowed herself to be pulled toward a rack of jackets. She plucked a simple gray leather jacket from the rack, holding it up for Aaliyah’s inspection. “Happy?”
Aaliyah pursed her lips, pretending to consider. “Hmm… better. But I was hoping for something bolder. Maybe red?”
Cruz gave her a look that clearly said don’t push it, and Aaliyah laughed, the sound bright and carefree.
--
They continued down the street, weaving in and out of more shops. Aaliyah tried on scarves, hats, and even a pair of ridiculous sunglasses with oversized pink frames. Each time, Cruz gave her the same deadpan responses, but Aaliyah noticed the way her lips twitched more frequently now, the hint of a smile breaking through her stoic exterior.
“Admit it—you’re having fun,” Aaliyah said as they left another boutique, a bright orange scarf draped around her neck.
“Debatable,” Cruz replied, but there was no real bite in her tone.
“You’re such a liar,” Aaliyah teased, linking her arm with Cruz’s again. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You like watching me try on stuff. Don’t deny it.”
Cruz opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, something shifted in her expression. Her grip on Aaliyah’s arm tightened just slightly, and her eyes flicked briefly over Aaliyah’s shoulder.
“What is it?” Aaliyah asked, her heart skipping a beat at the sudden change in Cruz’s demeanor.
“Someone’s watching us,” Cruz said quietly, her voice low and steady. “Dark coat, about fifty feet back.”
Aaliyah resisted the urge to turn around, trusting Cruz’s instincts. Instead, she kept her tone light, playing along. “What do we do?”
“We play along,” Cruz said, her grip on Aaliyah’s arm relaxing but not disappearing. “Act normal. Let’s see if he follows us into the next shop.”
Aaliyah’s heart raced, but she forced a smile, tightening her hold on Cruz’s arm as they entered another boutique. Inside, she made a show of browsing a rack of dresses near the window while Cruz stood nearby, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp.
“He’s outside,” Cruz murmured, her voice so low only Aaliyah could hear. “Still watching.”
Aaliyah picked up a dress, holding it up to her body. “What do you think? Does this scream ‘normal tourist’ to you?”
Cruz’s lips twitched, though her eyes remained fixed on the man outside. “It screams something, all right.”
Aaliyah chuckled, but the tension beneath her laughter was real. She felt Cruz’s presence beside her, steady and unwavering, and it gave her the courage to keep playing along. “Okay. What’s the plan?”
Cruz’s gaze finally shifted to her, dark and steady. “We walk out, hand in hand, like nothing’s wrong. If he follows us, we lose him in the crowd.”
“And if we can’t lose him?”
“Then I handle it,” Cruz said simply.
The quiet confidence in her voice sent a shiver down Aaliyah’s spine—not from fear, but from something else entirely. She nodded, slipping her hand into Cruz’s as they made their way to the door.
Outside, the man was still there, leaning casually against a lamppost, his gaze flicking toward them as they stepped onto the street. Cruz didn’t look his way, but Aaliyah could feel the tension in her grip, the way every muscle in her body seemed coiled, ready to act.
“Relax,” Aaliyah said softly, giving Cruz’s hand a slight squeeze. “We’ve got this.”
Cruz’s eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them. Then, with a slight nod, Cruz led her down the street, their pace casual but deliberate.
Aaliyah kept her smile in place, her heart pounding in her chest.
The noise and movement should have offered some comfort, but Aaliyah couldn’t shake the feeling of being on display, every step under scrutiny.
“Still with us?” Aaliyah murmured, keeping her tone light as she glanced sideways at Cruz.
“Yep,” Cruz replied, her voice calm, but the tension in her grip was unmistakable. “He’s trailing about thirty feet back now, trying to stay out of sight.”
Aaliyah fought the urge to glance over her shoulder. “What’s the plan?”
“Blend in. Stay casual. When we hit the next corner, we’ll lose him in the crowd.” Cruz’s eyes flicked toward a side alley ahead. “If he follows us, we’ll know he’s not just a random guy.”
Aaliyah nodded, her pulse quickening. She tightened her hold on Cruz’s hand and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth, the warmth of her palm grounding her despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. “Let’s make it look like we’re on a romantic stroll,” she said with a playful grin, determined to maintain the façade. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone watching.”
Cruz shot her a look that was half exasperation, half amusement. “You really know how to pick your moments.”
“What can I say?” Aaliyah quipped, leaning in just a little closer. “I thrive under pressure.”
Despite herself, Cruz’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
As they neared the corner, Aaliyah could feel the tension in the air, like the charged silence before a storm. She forced herself to keep smiling, playing the role of the carefree tourist as they turned down the side alley. It was quieter here, the noise of the main street fading into the background.
Cruz slowed her pace, her eyes scanning their surroundings. “He’s following,” she said quietly. “Stay close.”
Aaliyah’s heart pounded in her chest, but she trusted Cruz. She always did. “What now?”
“There’s a small courtyard up ahead,” Cruz murmured. “We’ll cut through and loop back to the main street. If he loses sight of us for even a second, he’ll hesitate.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Like I said, I deal with him.”
Aaliyah didn’t doubt that for a second. There was something about Cruz’s calm, quiet confidence that made her feel invincible, even in moments like this. She tightened her grip on Cruz’s hand as they reached the courtyard—a small, open space framed by ivy-covered walls and wrought-iron benches.
“Ready?” Cruz asked, her voice low.
Aaliyah nodded. “Ready.”
Without breaking stride, they cut across the courtyard, slipping behind a tall row of planters that offered just enough cover.
The courtyard was quiet, the distant sounds of the main street muffled by the walls that surrounded them. Aaliyah’s heart pounded, each beat echoing in her ears as Cruz guided her into the narrow passageway between two ivy-covered buildings. The stone was cool against her back, a stark contrast to the heat of Cruz’s body pressed close in front of her.
“Wait,” Cruz whispered, her breath brushing Aaliyah’s cheek. Her voice was calm, steady, but the tension in her posture was palpable.
Aaliyah nodded silently, barely daring to breathe as she strained to hear the faint sound of footsteps over the distant hum of life beyond the courtyard. Her pulse raced—not just from the danger, but from the closeness. Cruz was pressed against her, their bodies flush in the narrow space, and the warmth radiating from her felt more distracting than the potential threat.
“Still with us?” Aaliyah murmured quietly, her lips barely moving. Her attempt at humor felt weak, but the tension needed breaking.
Cruz’s hand, still resting on Aaliyah’s hip, tightened slightly in response. “Stay quiet,” she whispered, her tone low and soothing, but firm.
The footsteps grew louder, closer. Aaliyah’s breath hitched as Cruz shifted slightly, her body angling to shield Aaliyah from view. Without thinking, Aaliyah’s fingers curled around the hem of Cruz’s jacket, seeking reassurance.
“Easy,” Cruz murmured, her voice soft now, almost tender. Her free hand moved up to Aaliyah’s waist, slipping just beneath the edge of her shirt to rest against her abdomen. The touch was light, deliberate—meant to calm, but it sent a shiver racing through Aaliyah’s entire body.
“You’re okay,” Cruz added, her thumb brushing gently over Aaliyah’s skin in a rhythmic motion, a quiet promise in the gesture.
Aaliyah tried to focus on anything other than the warmth of Cruz’s hand, the way it felt—strong, steady, grounding. But it was impossible, especially when the hand on her waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling her closer. The world beyond the courtyard felt distant, irrelevant, as every nerve in Aaliyah’s body came alive beneath Cruz’s touch.
“Cruz…” Aaliyah whispered, her voice barely audible.
“I know,” Cruz replied quietly, her lips so close to Aaliyah’s ear that it sent another shiver through her. “Just stay still.”
Aaliyah swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her breathing steady. She could feel the tension coiled in Cruz’s body, the way every muscle seemed ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. But there was something else beneath the tension—a quiet intensity that made Aaliyah’s heart race for an entirely different reason.
The footsteps paused, lingering in the courtyard. Cruz leaned in slightly, her breath warm against Aaliyah’s neck as she whispered, “He’s looking around.”
Aaliyah bit her lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. The combination of Cruz’s touch and her closeness was overwhelming, every part of her hyper-aware of the way Cruz’s body fit against hers.
The moment stretched, each second feeling impossibly long. Cruz’s thumb continued its slow, soothing motion on Aaliyah’s abdomen, a quiet reassurance in the tension-filled silence. And then, without warning, Cruz pressed a gentle kiss just below Aaliyah’s ear—soft, brief, but enough to make Aaliyah’s breath catch.
Aaliyah turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Cruz’s. The intensity in Cruz’s dark gaze made her pulse quicken, her stomach flipping as she tried to process the charged moment. There was no mistaking the emotion in Cruz’s expression—protectiveness, yes, but something more.
Another kiss, this time slower, pressed just along the curve of Aaliyah’s neck. Cruz’s lips lingered, warm and deliberate, and Aaliyah felt her knees go weak. She gripped Cruz’s jacket tighter, holding on as her body betrayed her composure.
“Cruz…” she whispered again, this time more breathless, more pleading.
“Just keeping you calm,” Cruz murmured, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her own struggle to maintain control. Her hand slid up slightly, resting just beneath Aaliyah’s ribs, her touch firm but gentle. “Breathe.”
Aaliyah tried, but it was difficult when Cruz was so close, when every fiber of her being seemed attuned to the heat of Cruz’s hands, the softness of her lips. For a moment, the danger felt far away, insignificant compared to the storm brewing between them.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of footsteps retreated. Cruz remained still for a moment longer, her head bowed slightly, her lips brushing lightly against Aaliyah’s neck in a gesture that felt more instinctive than intentional.
“He’s gone,” Cruz whispered, pulling back slightly but not releasing her hold on Aaliyah.
Aaliyah exhaled slowly, her heart still racing as she tried to process what had just happened—not the danger, but the way Cruz’s touch had left her feeling unmoored, untethered. She met Cruz’s gaze, searching for something—an explanation, a reassurance—but all she found was the same quiet intensity that had been there moments before.
“Are you okay?” Cruz asked, her voice quieter now, more personal.
Aaliyah nodded, though her legs still felt unsteady. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”
Cruz’s eyes lingered on hers for a moment before she pulled back completely, her expression shifting back to its usual calm. But Aaliyah didn’t miss the way her hand lingered on her waist for just a second too long, or the way her gaze softened as it met hers.
“Let’s get back to the hotel,” Cruz said, her voice steady but quieter than before.
Aaliyah nodded, following her lead as they stepped back onto the main street. But even as they walked, hand in hand, the tension from the courtyard lingered, the memory of Cruz’s touch and the quiet promise in her kisses leaving Aaliyah breathless.
Cruz
The afternoon sun cast a warm golden glow over Salzburg, and for once, it didn’t feel oppressive. The streets bustled with life—tourists with cameras, locals chatting outside cafés, and the occasional street performer filling the air with music. Cruz remained on edge, though. Even in an idyllic setting like this, danger didn’t take a break.
As they walked, Aaliyah’s arm linked through hers, Cruz’s eyes scanned their surroundings, cataloging every face, every movement. It was second nature by now, more instinct than conscious thought.
Their safety hinged on constant vigilance, not pretending things were fine. Still, when Aaliyah gave her arm a playful squeeze, something softened in Cruz—just for a moment.
When they reached a small café, Aaliyah suggested they stop for lunch. Cruz hesitated. Public places weren’t ideal. Too many people. Too many variables. But Aaliyah’s smile, hopeful and teasing, chipped away at her resistance.
“Fine,” Cruz relented, her tone more clipped than she intended. “But we sit where I can see the whole street.”
“Deal.” Aaliyah grinned and tugged her toward a sun-dappled table near the patio’s edge. She moved with such ease, as though they really were just two women out for lunch. Cruz envied that ability to relax, even momentarily.
Cruz followed her to a table near the patio’s edge, her eyes still darting around. She knew she was being overly cautious, but that was her job. It was easier to focus on the surroundings than on the strange warmth lingering in her chest—a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun.
The waiter approached, cheerful and efficient, taking their orders. Cruz barely registered the interaction, her mind too occupied with scanning the street. She only returned to the present when Aaliyah’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“It’s kind of fun, isn’t it? Pretending like we’re just two normal people on a lunch date?”
Cruz turned to look at her, the words sinking in slowly. Pretending. She hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that Aaliyah had said it, it struck a nerve. Pretending. That’s what Cruz had always done. Pretended to be fine. Pretended to be untouchable. Pretended that she didn’t need anyone.
But with Aaliyah, it didn’t feel like pretending. Not anymore.
“We’re not pretending,” Cruz said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “At least not about that.”
Aaliyah blinked, caught off guard. Cruz noticed the faint flush that crept up her neck, the way her hand gripped the stem of her glass a little tighter. She didn’t seem to know how to respond, and for a moment, Cruz regretted her honesty. She wasn’t used to letting people in, wasn’t used to admitting… anything.
The silence stretched, and Cruz shifted in her seat, suddenly restless. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said something so personal, so revealing. She wasn’t even sure why she’d said it. But as she watched Aaliyah recover, her playful demeanor returning, Cruz realized something: she didn’t regret it.
“So, what’s the plan after lunch?” Aaliyah asked, her tone casual but with a hint of something more—curiosity, maybe. “More window shopping? Or are you going to drag me back to the suite for more combat training?”
“Depends,” Cruz replied, falling back into familiar territory. “Are you planning to wander off the moment I blink?”
Aaliyah laughed softly, the sound warm and bright. “I mean, if I do, you’ll just come find me, right?”
“Always.” The word came out instinctively, without hesitation. It was the truth—simple, direct. Cruz didn’t need to think about it because it was something she knew, deep down, without question.
But saying it out loud made something shift in the air between them. Aaliyah’s teasing smile faltered for just a moment, replaced by something softer, more serious. Cruz felt the weight of the moment, the unspoken tension lingering in the space between them.
What are you doing, Manuelos? Cruz thought, her jaw tightening as she forced herself to look away, her eyes returning to the street. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She wasn’t supposed to let her guard down—not with Aaliyah, not with anyone. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to keep her walls intact around her.
“Good,” Aaliyah murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “Because I’m not planning on getting lost anytime soon.”
The food arrived, giving Cruz a reprieve from the intensity of her thoughts. She focused on eating, her movements methodical, precise—anything to distract herself from the way Aaliyah kept glancing at her, like she was trying to figure something out.
Cruz caught her staring once, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Aaliyah just smiled, taking another sip of her wine as if nothing had happened. Cruz huffed quietly, shaking her head. Impossible. She’s impossible.
But there was no irritation in the thought—only something fond, something that made Cruz’s chest feel tight in a way that was both unfamiliar and unsettling.
“Something on your mind?” Cruz asked after a while, unable to ignore the way Aaliyah kept watching her.
“Just thinking,” Aaliyah said, setting her glass down. “It’s nice. Being here with you.”
Cruz didn’t know how to respond to that. Compliments, warmth, affection—these were things she didn’t know how to handle. So, she defaulted to silence, letting her actions speak instead. She finished her water and stood, signaling the end of their meal.
“You ready?”
Aaliyah stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder with an easy grace. “Let’s keep exploring. It’s not every day we get to pretend like we’re just… us.”
Cruz hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. She didn’t know what Aaliyah meant by just us, but something about the way she said it made Cruz’s heart ache in a way she hadn’t ever felt before she met Aaliyah.
“Lead the way.”
As they stepped back onto the sunlit street, Aaliyah linked her arm with Cruz’s again, her touch light but grounding. For a moment, Cruz allowed herself to relax, to pretend—if only for a little while—that this was real, that they were just two people, out for a day in the city.
She knew it couldn’t last. She knew the weight of reality would come crashing back down eventually. But for now, she let herself savor the warmth of Aaliyah’s arm against hers, the soft hum of the city around them, and the quiet hope blooming in her chest.
--
The boutique door chimed softly as they stepped inside, the scent of leather and fresh linen mingling with the faint hum of background music. Cruz instinctively scanned the space—clean, well-organized, and upscale, the kind of place that catered to tourists with deep pockets. Despite the outward calm, she couldn’t let herself relax completely. A false sense of security was how mistakes happened.
Aaliyah didn’t hesitate. She drifted toward the nearest rack of scarves, her fingers brushing lightly over the fabric as she admired the vibrant colors. Cruz hung back near the entrance, keeping her eyes on the windows and door, the weight of her concealed weapon a familiar comfort at her side.
“You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” Aaliyah said over her shoulder, her voice light and teasing. She picked up a sleek black coat and turned toward Cruz, holding it up against herself. “What do you think? Too much?”
Cruz’s gaze flicked briefly to the coat and then back to the street outside. “It’s fine.”
Aaliyah huffed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Fine? You’re so helpful.”
Cruz fought the urge to smirk. She didn’t need to look at Aaliyah again to know the playful exasperation written all over her face. It was becoming a familiar pattern between them—Aaliyah’s teasing, Cruz’s stoic responses, and the warmth it stirred in her chest despite her best efforts to ignore it.
Keep it together, Manuelos. She shifted her weight slightly, her arms crossed loosely over her chest as she kept her focus outward. But when Aaliyah moved toward a mirror and tried on a floppy hat, Cruz’s eyes betrayed her, flicking back to watch.
Aaliyah tilted the hat at an angle, studying herself in the mirror. “How about this one? Very chic, right?”
“You look like you’re about to star in a spy movie,” Cruz said, her tone dry but lacking its usual edge. She didn’t miss the way Aaliyah’s eyes lit up in the mirror at her response, as though she’d been waiting for Cruz to engage.
“Well, we are kind of in one,” Aaliyah quipped, adjusting the hat again before setting it down. She caught Cruz’s reflection and added, “You know, you could use a wardrobe upgrade yourself. Maybe something other than black?”
Cruz raised an eyebrow, her expression deadpan. “Black works.”
It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered wearing something else—it was just practical. Black was simple, unassuming, and didn’t draw attention. But Aaliyah’s teasing wasn’t about practicality; it was about getting a rise out of her. And damn if she wasn’t good at it.
“You’re impossible,” Aaliyah said with a laugh, setting the hat back on the shelf before turning to face Cruz directly. “Okay, your turn. Pick something.”
“No.”
“Come on! Just one thing,” Aaliyah pressed, stepping closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She nudged Cruz lightly with her shoulder, and the warmth of the casual contact sent a jolt through Cruz’s system. “You never know—you might actually enjoy it.”
Cruz sighed, realizing that resistance was futile. Aaliyah wasn’t going to let this go. With deliberate slowness, she moved to the nearest rack and plucked a simple gray leather jacket off the hanger, holding it up with a look that clearly said, Happy now?
“Better,” Aaliyah said, pretending to scrutinize it before shrugging playfully. “But I was hoping for something bolder. Maybe red?”
Cruz gave her a look—flat, unimpressed, and entirely unamused. But inside, she wasn’t nearly as composed. Something about the way Aaliyah leaned into her personal space, the way she smiled as though they were just two normal people shopping for fun, was beginning to wear down the walls Cruz had so carefully constructed.
They continued down the street, weaving in and out of more shops. Aaliyah flitted from rack to rack, picking up scarves, hats, and sunglasses, trying on each one with a kind of carefree joy that Cruz found both exasperating and endearing. She trailed a step behind, her eyes constantly flicking toward the street, watching for anything—or anyone—out of place.
Aaliyah tried on a bright orange scarf, draping it around her neck dramatically before turning to Cruz with a grin. Cruz, despite herself, found the corners of her mouth twitching.
“Admit it—you’re having fun,” Aaliyah said, her tone light, but Cruz could hear the challenge beneath it.
“Debatable,” Cruz replied, keeping her expression neutral. But the truth was harder to ignore. Watching Aaliyah like this—happy, relaxed, and so effortlessly herself—was disarming in a way Cruz hadn’t expected.
“You’re such a liar,” Aaliyah teased, linking her arm with Cruz’s again as they stepped back onto the sunlit street.
Cruz didn’t pull away. The gesture felt too natural, too easy, and she didn’t have the heart—or the willpower—to stop it. Instead, she let Aaliyah lead her down the street, the warmth of her touch a quiet reminder that, for all her vigilance, there were moments like this that made everything feel… worth it.
Stay sharp. Don’t get distracted.
But it was easier said than done. Every time Aaliyah laughed, every time she smiled up at her, it chipped away at Cruz’s defenses. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to protect Aaliyah, not get lost in her.
“You like watching me try on stuff. Don’t deny it,” Aaliyah said with a playful grin, her voice drawing Cruz back to the present.
Cruz opened her mouth to retort, but something over Aaliyah’s shoulder caught her attention—a man standing across the street, leaning against a lamppost. He wasn’t looking directly at them, but there was something about his posture, the way he lingered, that set off alarm bells in Cruz’s mind.
Her grip on Aaliyah’s arm tightened slightly. “What is it?” Aaliyah asked, her voice quieter now, the playfulness giving way to concern.
“Someone’s watching us,” Cruz murmured, keeping her tone steady. “Dark coat, about fifty feet back.”
Aaliyah didn’t turn around, trusting Cruz implicitly. Instead, she kept her tone casual, playing along as though nothing was wrong. “What do we do?”
Cruz’s heart rate picked up, but outwardly, she remained calm. “We play along,” she said, loosening her grip slightly but keeping Aaliyah close. “Act normal. Let’s see if he follows us into the next shop.”
Despite the tension coiling in her chest, Cruz couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride at how well Aaliyah was handling herself. No panic, no second-guessing—just trust. It made Cruz’s protectiveness flare even stronger, a fierce determination settling over her.
They entered another boutique, and Cruz positioned herself near the window, keeping the man in her line of sight. Aaliyah, ever the actor, moved to a rack of dresses, holding one up as though considering it. “Does this scream ‘normal tourist’ to you?” she asked, her voice light but with an edge of nervous energy.
“It screams something, all right,” Cruz muttered, her lips twitching despite the situation.
She couldn’t let her guard down, not for a second. But as Aaliyah continued to play her part, Cruz found herself grateful for this strange, chaotic connection they had. Whatever this was between them—it made everything feel more real, more urgent.
The man lingered outside the shop, still watching. Cruz’s mind raced, already formulating a plan. “Stay close,” she murmured, her voice low but steady. “We’ll lose him in the crowd.”
And as they stepped back onto the street, hand in hand once more, Cruz couldn’t ignore the quiet thought that surfaced, unbidden and unwelcome: She’s more than just someone to protect. She’s someone I don’t want to lose.
The buzz of the street hummed around them as they stepped out of the boutique. Cruz’s eyes remained locked on the man in the dark coat standing across the road, his posture too casual to be innocent. He wasn’t watching them directly, but the way his gaze kept flicking in their direction, the way he seemed to linger without purpose—it was enough to set off every alarm in Cruz’s mind.
“We’ll take the next alley,” Cruz murmured, already mapping out the streets in her head. “There’s a courtyard nearby. If he follows, we can lose him in the crowd once we loop back to the main street.”
Aaliyah squeezed her hand, her tone laced with playful bravado despite the tension. “Lead the way. I trust you.”
Cruz felt a flicker of warmth at Aaliyah’s trust in her, but there was no time to dwell on it. She led them toward the alley, keeping their pace casual, her senses on high alert. As they turned the corner, Cruz’s eyes flicked back briefly, catching a glimpse of the man following at a steady distance.
“He’s still with us,” Cruz said quietly, her voice low but calm.
Aaliyah’s hand tightened in hers. “Okay. What’s the plan if we can’t lose him?”
Cruz didn’t hesitate. “If he gets too close, I’ll handle it.”
There was something so matter-of-fact in the way she said it, as if taking down a potential threat was just another part of the day. Aaliyah didn’t question her. Instead, she matched Cruz’s stride, staying close as they entered the quiet courtyard.
The shift from the bustling street to the secluded courtyard was almost jarring. Ivy climbed the stone walls, casting dappled shadows across the cobbled ground. Wrought-iron benches framed the space, but it was empty—just them, and the faint sounds of the city beyond the walls.
Cruz scanned the area quickly, her eyes darting to potential exits and hiding spots. “This way,” she said, guiding Aaliyah toward a narrow passage between two ivy-covered buildings. The space was tight, barely wide enough for them to stand side by side, but it provided enough cover to stay hidden from view.
“Wait,” Cruz whispered, pressing Aaliyah gently against the cool stone wall. Her body shielded Aaliyah’s from view, her arm braced beside Aaliyah’s head, the other hand hovering near the knife at her waist.
Cruz was close—too close—but there was no other way to do this without exposing them. She could feel the warmth radiating from Aaliyah’s body, the slight hitch in her breath as they settled into position. Focus, Manuelos. Stay sharp, Cruz told herself, but it was difficult when Aaliyah was this close—when every instinct told her to protect, but something deeper urged her to be more. But it was impossible not to notice the way Aaliyah’s chest rose and fell, or the way her eyes locked onto Cruz’s, wide with trust—and something else Cruz couldn’t name.
“He’s still out there,” Cruz murmured, tilting her head slightly to peer around the edge of the wall. Her breath brushed against Aaliyah’s cheek, and she saw the way Aaliyah’s lips parted slightly, a quiet intake of breath that made something twist in Cruz’s chest.
This was dangerous—not the man following them, but the way Aaliyah made her feel. Cruz had been in life-threatening situations more times than she could count. She knew how to handle danger. But this? This quiet, electric tension between them? It was entirely new territory.
“Still with us?” Aaliyah whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Stay quiet,” Cruz replied, her tone soft but firm. She wasn’t sure if the words were meant to reassure Aaliyah or herself.
Aaliyah nodded, but her fingers curled slightly into Cruz’s jacket, holding on just enough to ground them both. Cruz felt the touch like a spark, the warmth of Aaliyah’s grip seeping through the fabric and straight into her skin. Focus. You need to stay focused.
But the longer they stood there, the harder it became to ignore the other feelings creeping in—the way Aaliyah’s hair brushed against her cheek, the faint scent of her perfume, the steady rhythm of her breathing. Cruz was hyper-aware of every point of contact, her senses heightened not just by the potential danger but by the proximity of the woman pressed against her.
Her free hand, the one not braced against the wall, instinctively found Aaliyah’s waist, resting lightly just beneath the hem of her shirt. The touch was meant to be reassuring, a way to calm Aaliyah’s nerves. But as her fingers brushed against Aaliyah’s bare skin, Cruz felt the jolt of warmth travel up her own arm.
“You’re okay,” Cruz whispered, her thumb brushing in a slow, deliberate motion over Aaliyah’s side. The gesture was small, subtle, but it felt far more intimate than it should have. Aaliyah’s body reacted, a slight shiver running through her, and Cruz couldn’t help but feel the tension growing—not just from the situation, but from the closeness they shared.
The man’s footsteps echoed faintly as he entered the courtyard. Cruz leaned in slightly, angling her body to shield Aaliyah further. Every muscle in her body was coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. But as the man’s steps paused near the alley’s entrance, Cruz did something she hadn’t planned—something entirely out of character.
She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss just below Aaliyah’s ear.
It wasn’t strategic. It wasn’t calculated. It was instinctive, born from the need to comfort Aaliyah in a way words couldn’t. Her lips lingered briefly, warm against Aaliyah’s skin, before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Breathe. You’re okay.”
Aaliyah’s breath hitched again, but this time it wasn’t from fear. Cruz could feel the way her body relaxed slightly against hers, the way her fingers tightened their grip on her jacket as if grounding herself. The tension between them shifted, no longer just about the man following them, but something more intimate—something Cruz wasn’t ready to name.
“Cruz…” Aaliyah whispered, her voice barely a breath.
“I know,” Cruz murmured, though the way her heart pounded in her chest betrayed her own need for calm. Her thumb brushed lightly over Aaliyah’s side, a quiet, steadying gesture meant as much for herself as for Aaliyah.
The man lingered for a moment longer before turning and walking away, his footsteps fading into the distance.
“He’s gone,” Cruz whispered, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t—not yet. The adrenaline was still thrumming through her veins, mixing with the warmth of Aaliyah pressed against her. Their eyes met, the space between them charged with something Cruz couldn’t quite define but didn’t want to lose.
“You okay?” Cruz asked again, her voice quieter now, more personal.
Aaliyah nodded, her expression unreadable but soft. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”
Cruz knew she should step back, re-establish the distance between them. But her hand lingered on Aaliyah’s waist, her thumb still brushing absentmindedly against her side, as if reluctant to let go of the moment. There was something about Aaliyah’s presence—her trust, her warmth—that made Cruz feel both vulnerable and invincible all at once.
Finally, she forced herself to pull back, though the tension between them remained. “We should get back to the hotel,” Cruz said, her tone steady but quieter than before.
Aaliyah nodded, slipping her hand into Cruz’s again as they stepped out of the alley and back onto the main street. Cruz kept her eyes sharp, scanning for any sign of another tail, but her mind was only half on the task. The other half was focused entirely on Aaliyah—the way her fingers fit perfectly with Cruz’s, the way her trust felt like both a responsibility and a privilege.
They walked in silence, the noise of the city swirling around them, but Cruz couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between them. The danger had passed, but the moment in the courtyard lingered, etched into her mind like a brand.
For Cruz, protecting Aaliyah had always been about duty—about finishing what she started. But now, it felt like something more. Aaliyah wasn’t just someone to keep safe. She was someone Cruz wanted to be close to, someone who made her feel things she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time.
And that realization—that she was falling for Aaliyah, whether she liked it or not—left Cruz more shaken than any threat ever could.