He frowns slightly. “Did you walk here?”
“Yeah, the school’s only like fifteen minutes away. I like the fresh air, and it counts as exercise, which is great since I spend most of my time hunched over my desk like a shrimp grading papers.”
“Listen,” he says, and looks like he’s briefly weighing whatever he’s about to say next, “why don’t I give you a ride? It’s on my way and the least I can do.”
Oh my god.I should start manifesting more often.
“Um, yeah, if you’re sure?” Usually I’m nothing but confident around men. Sophie once joked I could flirt my way out of a prison sentence. So why does everything come out sounding uncertain when there’s actually someone I want to impress?
“Definitely,” he says, gesturing toward the door.
I grab my bag and jacket from my desk, fumbling with the zipper before following him into the hallway. A few parents and teachers are still lingering near the main entrance, chatting in small clusters. I wave to Mrs. Henderson and Principal Erickson, trying to look casual. Professional. Like I’m absolutely not leaving with Theo Midnight after curriculum night and my heart isn’t beating twice as fast as it should be.
We walk through the school without speaking, though it feels as though we could be communicating through proximity alone, through the careful distance we’re maintaining between us. The chilly air hits the second we step outside. It’s gotten colder while we were in there, a Pacific Northwest chill thatsmells like rain even though none is falling. The parking lot is mostly empty now, just a handful of cars under the yellow glow of the streetlights. I follow him to his Subaru, my flats making soft sounds against the pavement, and try to calm my racing thoughts.
He unlocks the car with a beep and I climb into the passenger seat. The interior smells familiar. Maybe his detergent, maybe just him, but the scent takes me right back to driving home from the festival, Chloe asleep in the backseat, the dashboard lights casting shadows across his face. It had felt so natural to be sitting here beside him then.
Theo gets in and starts the engine. The radio comes on low, some acoustic guitar song I vaguely recognize. He adjusts the heat and backs out of the parking spot without looking at me.
We pull onto the main road and drive in silence for a moment. I fiddle with the strap of my bag, sneaking glances at him. He looks completely at ease behind the wheel while I’m practically vibrating with nervous energy.
I clear my throat. “When you get to the top of the hill, it’ll just be a left up at the—“ I start, then immediately want to sink through the floor. “Oh, well I guess you already know that since it’s your apartment.”
He glances over, clearly amused. Maybe even charmed, if I’m lucky. “It’s alright. I appreciate the navigation.”
“Right. Good.” I nod, trying to salvage some dignity. “So, thanks again for the ride. I promise I’m not usually this unprepared for weather.”
“It’s no problem,” he says. “Really.”
The drive is over too soon. We turn onto the main street, then onto my side road, and before I’m ready he’s pulling into the small lot behind the building. The headlights sweep across the wooden stairs leading up to my door before he cuts the engine.
Silence settles over us, broken only by the tick of the cooling engine and my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I should getout. Thank him again and go inside like a normal person. Instead I’m moving slower than necessary, gathering my bag, not quite ready for this to end.
“I’ll walk you up,” he says, and it’s not a question.
My pulse spikes. “You don’t have to?—“
“I know.” He’s already opening his door.
We walk to the stairs without speaking, close enough that our shoulders almost brush. I’m acutely aware of every inch of space between us, of the way the cool air carries his scent, of how easy it would be to reach over and take his hand. The motion-sensor light flicks on when we’re halfway up, casting everything in harsh white that makes the moment feel both more real and somehow dreamlike.
At the landing, I dig into my bag for my keys. My fingers find them immediately but I take my time pulling them out, dragging this moment as long as I can. When I turn to face him, he’s standing closer than I expected.
“Well, thanks for...” I start, giving him an opening. Trying to convey in body language alone what I’ve wanted for weeks now.
He’s looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read—want, maybe, or intent—before hesitation takes over. He takes a small step back.
He wants to kiss me. I can see it written all over him, the war between desire and restraint. Whatever’s holding him back, it’s there in the tension of his shoulders, in the way his hands are shoved in his pockets like he doesn’t trust what they might do otherwise.
I’ve never been patient about waiting for what I want.
I close the distance between us and kiss him.
For half a heartbeat he doesn’t respond, and I have just enough time to think I’ve completely misread this?—
Then his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair, and his other hand grips my waist hard enough that I feel the pressure through my dress. He pulls meflush against him and walks me backward until my shoulders hit the door.
The kiss turns into something else entirely.
