His hand moves before I even realize it, brushing that one rogue strand of hair that slipped down my cheek and tucking it gently behind my ear. The graze of his fingers lingers, warm against my skin, and my pulse goes completely haywire.
And those eyes. They're pulling me in, drowning me in heat and tenderness I've only ever dreamed about. His gaze doesn't waver—it's locked on me, reading me, consuming me.
Somewhere between my silent meltdown and trying not to combust, his hands end up on my waist. I don't even know when they got there.
All I know is he's pressing me closer. Close enough to feel his breath fanning across my lips. Close enough for my heart to decide it no longer cares about things like self-control.
Is this intentional? Am I imagining it? Is this just another cruel trick of my delusional brain that spends way too much time fantasizing about moments like this?
I can't tell anymore.
But it doesn't matter. Because right now, his eyes are pulling me down, down, down, closing the space that's always been there between us.
Fuck. Fuck. I'm really going to kiss him.
Why am I not stopping? Oh God. Am I seriously about to kiss my best friend?
My body's on autopilot, leaning in, lips hovering a breath away from his. Just a few more millimeters—Knock. Knock.
We jolt like we've both been electrocuted, scrambling apart so fast you'd think the bed was on fire. My face burns. His face burns. The entire universe burns.
"Caroline, honey," my mom's voice filters through the door, sweet and casual, like she didn't just ruin my entire life. "We're going to bed. Just wanted to say goodnight."
I clear my throat, praying it doesn't sound as wrecked as I feel. "Goodnight, Mom. Tell Dad goodnight too. Love you."
My voice shakes. My heart pounds like it's trying to beat straight out of my chest. And all I can think is—holy shit, I almost kissed Zach.
Silence.
Heavy, awkward silence.
I can't even look at him. My eyes are glued to the comforter like it suddenly turned into the most fascinating fabric in the world.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Zach running a hand through his already-messy hair, like he doesn't know what to do with his body.
"So, uh..." His voice cracks.Cracks. Like he's thirteen again. My lips twitch, because what even is happening right now?
He clears his throat, sits up straighter, then immediately slouches again, his hands flailing in the air like he's trying to swat invisible flies. "I should probably—uh—yeah, I should... head out. You know. Sleep. Gotta... sleep."
He points toward my balcony door, finger guns me—finger guns me—then instantly winces at himself likewhy the hell did I just do that.
"Right," I manage, nodding way too fast. My face is on fire. "Yeah. Sleep is good. You should... do that."
"Cool. Yeah. Totally. Tomorrow then."
He gets up, nearly trips over his own shoes, catches himself on my nightstand, then pretends it never happened. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sugarplum." His voice drops soft at the nickname, and my stupid heart betrays me all over again.
We finally risk a glance at each other, and it's disastrous. Because the second our eyes meet, we both break into these nervous, ridiculous smiles—like we're in on some secret we can't say out loud.
He backs toward the balcony, still grinning like an idiot, still pointing at me for no reason, before slipping out the door.
And I just sit there, clutching my necklace, grinning into my pillow like the lovesick fool I am.
CHAPTER SIX
CAROLINE
Iwake up the next day with the brightest smile plastered on my face. Like,blinding. Honestly, if anyone saw me right now, they'd think I won the lottery, got cast in a Netflix show, and had Harry Styles propose to me—all before breakfast.
