He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, thumb brushing under her lips. “You were amazing, Ali. So fucking beautiful.”
She blushed, curling her fingers into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “I didn’t know if I was doing it right.”
“You were perfect,” he said without hesitation. “God, baby, I didn’t want to stop you. You felt so good. You looked so good.”
He kissed her again— this time soft, lingering, reverent. Not rushed or needy. Just full of quiet awe.
Dylan wrapped both arms around her, cradling her against his chest like something precious. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
She melted into him, sighing as the warm evening air filled the Bronco. Outside, the cicadas still buzzed, the marsh was turning soft gold in the fading light, and the world felt far away.
“Does this…” she began, hesitating. “Mean we’re…?”
He pulled her hand into his, threading their fingers together. “It means I’m not letting you go again.”
Ali’s throat tightened, but she nodded.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
They sat like that for a long time— windows open, hearts open, her head on his shoulder, his thumb tracing circles against her thigh. Everything unspoken settled quietly between them, not needing to be rushed.
Because they had time now.
And this time, they weren’t wasting it.
Ali stayed curled against Dylan’s chest, her eyes watching the Spanish moss sway from the old cypress trees outside. The marsh shimmered in the fading light, all honey and shadow. His thumb kept tracing lazy circles on her thigh, grounding her in the moment— but also making her nervous.
Because she had to say it. Before they got too far. Before she got too lost in the warmth of him.
“Dylan,” she said softly, pulling back just a little to look at him.
“Yeah?” he turned his head toward her, brows slightly furrowed, immediately picking up on her shift in tone.
She hesitated. Then looked down at their joined hands, her thumb brushing over his knuckle. “I’m… not ready to date you. Not out loud.”
His jaw tightened slightly, and she saw him brace— just a flicker, but it was there.
“It’s not you,” she rushed. “I mean… geez, it’s not. I like you. I want this. I just… I’m scared.”
Dylan didn’t speak right away. He nodded slowly, waiting, giving her space. Letting her fill in the silence on her own terms.
“In college,” she said, voice catching. “After people found out. Daisy, her friends… everyone just turned on me. Like I was the villain. Like I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“You were always good enough for me,” Dylan said fiercely.
“But nobody saw it that way,” she whispered. “And I couldn’t handle it. I let them make me feel small. Like I didn’t belong with you. And I guess I never really stopped believing it.”
He reached out, brushing a piece of stray hair behind her ear. “Ali…”
“I don’t want the attention,” she said, trying not to cry. “The whispers. The looks. People comparing me to whatever imaginary version of a girl they think you should be with. I— I know I’m not that.”
“You’re exactly who I want,” he said. “I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks.”
She smiled a little, but it was shaky. “I need time. I need to feel… strong in this. In us. Before it’s anyone else’s business.”
Dylan let out a long breath, then leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll do it your way. Whatever you need.”
“You’re not mad?”
