The words hit deeper than I wanted them to. “You… tried to find me?”
He didn’t answer. But he didn’t need to. The truth was written in the way his gaze held mine.
The silence stretched, heavy but not suffocating.
Finally, I leaned forward, my shoulder brushing his. “I know what you did today. With Elise. The school flipped fast, and that wasn’t luck.”
He gave a half-shrug. “She tried to humiliate you. I reminded her why she shouldn’t.”
“Still.” My eyes dropped to the grease stain on the box then back to him. “Thank you.”
His jaw flexed, but his eyes softened. “Forget owing me. Protecting you isn’t up for debate.”
The words twisted in me. I shook my head. “I don’t want you fighting my battles.”
He tipped his chin, gaze unwavering. “Maybe I want to.”
My chest tightened. Because that was the danger—leaning on him the way Mom leaned on men in boardrooms and back rooms, always trading one kind of power for another. I couldn’t let myself become her, no matter how much I wanted to lean into him now.
I shifted forward, nudging the food boxes aside with my knee until they slid sideways along the blanket. The smell of hot grease tangled between us as I leaned across the space. Then his breath met mine—steady, warm, and maddeningly patient.
I brushed my lips across his slow enough to feel the catch of his exhale. Not like the last time—when it was all fury and desperation, a collision more than anything. This one was slower. Intentional. I savored his taste, memorized his response. The kind of kiss that dared to linger.
His breath hitched against mine, warm and steady. His hand slid up to my cheek, calloused thumb brushing the skin as if he was memorizing it. My fingers trailed down to his wrist, to the steady pulse thrumming beneath. The warmth of him pressed through his clothes, seeping into my skin. His other arm curved around my waist, anchoring me closer, pulling me past the boxes until there was nothing between us but heat.
The world narrowed to breath and touch and the taste of him. Every time I thought he’d pull back, he deepened the kiss just slightly—enough to remind me that restraint didn’t meandistance. His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth when he finally broke away, and I caught his breath on my lower lip, the faint tremor beneath the calm.
We were still figuring out what we were. But in that moment, nothing felt broken—only inevitable.
I rested my head on his shoulder. The stars were bright above us, unbothered by the secrets shifting below. His warmth bled into me, steadying the tremor in my chest.
I slid off his lap until I was next to him, leaning against his side and stealing his warmth. His arm tightened, drawing me in until the world settled around the rhythm of our pulse.
We finished the food in silence, his shoulder solid under my cheek, the wind tugging at my hair. For the first time in too long, the quiet felt safe.
We didn’t move for a while, the remainder of food cooling in front of us, the night air damp against my skin. Finally, Luke shifted, brushing his thumb once more over my cheek before he let me go.
Reluctantly, I sat back, fingers skimming the edge of the pizza box. “Guess we should clean this up before the seagulls declare war.”
He huffed a laugh, low and tired, and started stacking the box and empty fry carton. I gathered the napkins, our water bottles, anything to keep my hands moving when all I wanted was to stay pressed against him.
We stood at the same time, arms bumping as we crossed over to the stairwell door. He pushed it open and went first, glancing back once to make sure I was there. I was. Step by step, sneakers scuffing concrete, the rooftop slipped away above us, and he walked me to my car.
“Drive safe,” he said, quiet, as though the words carried more weight than they should.
I smiled, small but real. “Only if you promise not to eat all the fries next time.”
His laugh was low, rough in his chest, and when I leaned in again, the second kiss came easier. Slower. A seal instead of a slow spark. A promise neither of us named.
I gathered my sketchbook, his gaze following every move, and headed for my car. He leaned against the side of his, sleeves shoved up, looking as if he belonged to the night itself. I glanced back once, memorizing the way the shadows caught on his jaw, before I slid behind the wheel.
The drive home blurred—streetlights streaking past, his taste on my lips, the ghost of his hand steady on my skin.
When I pulled into the driveway, another set of headlights swept across the gravel behind me. My mom’s sedan. She must’ve worked late again; the smell of Dunn’s offices would still be clinging to her. Or maybe she’d been out with Principal Miller—the same dinners and evenings that kept my scholarship paid up and my place at Blackwood intact.
We stepped out of our cars at the same time. The silence stretched, thick as the coastal fog. Finally, I said, “Who called to get me reinstated?”
Her fingers tightened around her keys. “It doesn’t matter who.”
