Becausehe’s here.
I run to him, arms thrown around his neck as he pulls me into his chest. His face finds the crook of my neck, and I feel him inhale deeply—like he’s trying to memorize my scent.
“My god, Stella,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you so much. Missed you in my arms… and the way you smell.”
He pulls back just enough to flash that crooked smile. “And you’re even rocking the hint of turpentine today.”
Before I can laugh, his lips are on mine—desperate, deep, like the kiss itself is proof we survived the distance. My arms wrap around his waist, my hands finding their home on his perfect ass, and I moan into his mouth, unable to hold it back.
The sound of footsteps breaks us apart.
We turn to see Ansel and Theo stepping onto the stage. I swipe at the corner of my mouth and try not to look like I was just seconds away from climbing Donovan like a tree.
He hands me the bouquet he brought—dark calla lilies and blush peonies—and my heart tightens.
My favorite.
The perfect balance of who I am: softness without weakness, darkness without shame.
The play goes off without a hitch—every note hit, every scene seamless. The cast and crew get their well-earned standing ovation, and I feel like I’m floating.
Afterward, there’s a small celebration in the black box, full of hugs, cupcakes, and backstage selfies. Just when I think I can’t take any more love, they present me with a framed photo of the whole class. Tears well up in my eyes. It’s absolutely perfect.
Aster finds me in the crowd and wraps her arms around me.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “For listening to me. For bringing my vision to life. For pushing me out of my comfort zone, even when I fought it.”
She wipes her cheek, then pulls a rolled-up piece of paper from behind her back. “I also… finished this. Thought you might want it.”
It’s her sketch—the one she started that very first day. It is now alive with color and detail. Honest and beautiful.
“Aster,” I whisper, holding it like it’s made of glass. “This means the world to me.”
Everyone starts to head home, laughter echoing off the walls as the post-show buzz settles. Theo tells the remaining students they’ll strike the set on Monday during class—tonight is for celebrating.
Ansel, Donovan, and I start walking toward the door, heading to Honey and Heat to meet our parents. Just as we’re about to exit, Ansel glances back.
Theo’s still on stage, casually stacking chairs.
Without a word, she spins on her heel and jogs back to him. I watch her lean in, say something low, and then hold out her hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He stares at her for a heartbeat—then takes it.
They walk over together, and her smile could power the whole damn theater.
“I asked Theo to come to dinner with us,” she says, practically glowing. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is—the more the merrier,” Donovan replies, stepping forward and offering his hand. “Good to see you again, Mr. Lightheart.”
Theo chuckles as he shakes it. “The girls seem to be on a first-name basis with me, so let’s drop the formalities. Just call me Theo.”
“Sounds good to me.”
With that, we head to my house so I can change before we head to the restaurant—where, if I had to guess, things are about to get a little interesting.
Donovan
Stella traded her paint-stained clothes for a flowy pastel slip dress and a pair of cherry red heels that make my pulse skip. Her hair is still in those two braids, soft but dangerous. Just like her.
