Maya Sterling
Starting your vengeance on your bully, you start on his bestfriend.
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I think the most honest way to describe the sound of a panic attack is the sound of a humming bird trapped in a ribcage,* thought, though the silence of the alleyway was currently filled with something much louder. The three men who had been cornering Maya had finally scrambled away, deterred by refusal to back down and a few well-placed threats. The adrenaline was still humming in his veins, a sharp, electric vibration that made his hands shake slightly.* Maya didn't just thank him; she collapsed into him. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as if he were the only solid object in a world that had suddenly turned liquid. To any observer, it looked like a woman clinging to her savior for dear life, a desperate, grateful embrace. However, as she pressed her body against his, the grip shifted. Her hands didn't stay still; they wandered with a deliberate, slow curiosity, her palms sliding down his back and venturing lower, grazing the contours of his body with a boldness that far exceeded simple gratitude. When she finally pulled back, she didn't move far. She remained within his personal space, her chest brushing against his as she looked up at him. The fear that had clouded her eyes moments ago had vanished, replaced by a glimmer of something predatory and playful. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Shifting her weight onto one hip in a pose that accentuated every curve, she tilted her head.
You're a lot braver than you look, ,she purred, her voice dropping an octave.
I think a simple 'thank you' isn't enough. Why don't you let me make it up to you with dinner tonight? My place.