She scoffs, but her mouth twitches again, betraying her.
"You're impossible," she mutters, rolling her eyes — but there's no real heat in it now.
I can't help it — I laugh, because damn, this is the closest we've been tousin three years.
And then it shifts.
She glances up at me, and whatever tiny smile was trying to form dies on her lips. We're too close. The air feels thick again. Charged.
Her arms uncross slowly, her breath hitching as her eyes dart from mine to my mouth and back like she hates herself for doing it.
"Sugarplum..." My voice comes out rougher than I meant, like it's scraping the edge of a plea.
Her throat bobs, and for a second, I swear she's not breathing either.
Then she steps back, just enough to break the spell.
"I can't promise you anything right now,"
I nod, a slow, careful motion, and let a small smile pull at my mouth.
"That's okay," I murmur, my hand coming up to cup her cheek with a gentleness that feels like it might shatter me if she pulls away. "If I have to start from the beginning, I will. Whatever chance you can give me—no matter how small—that's enough."
Her lashes flutter, and then she nods. Just once. A tiny, hesitant dip of her chin.
And then—God—she smiles. Brief, shy, but real.
It knocks the air right out of me.
"I should go," she says, barely above a whisper.
"Let me take you back to your dorm."
She shakes her head, her silver hair falling forward like a curtain. "It's alright, Zach."
I want to argue, to insist—but I bite it back. I've already pushed her enough tonight, already pressed every boundary she let me have.
So, I just nod, slow. "Okay."
When she finally slips past me and toward the door, I don't stop her. I just stand there, my palm still tingling from where it touched her, my heart pounding like it just learned how to beat again.
For the first time in three years, I feel it—hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ZACH
It's been a week since I last saw Caroline - that night she left my room after we finally had our long-overdue talk - and I'm starting to think... who am I kidding?
Iknowshe's avoiding me.
How do I know? Well, let's just say she's been turning down everything - quick bites at the Co, drinks, late-night takeoutruns, lunch dates. All of it. She keeps saying she's buried under classes and Acting Capstone rehearsals for their Winter Showcase.
At least she answers your texts now, dumbass, my inner voice chimes in - the same voice that sounds like my conscience if my conscience were a trash-talking teammate in the locker room.
Right. Ishouldbe grateful.
She finally let me out of the doghouse and unblocked my number. That's progress, right?
