Here it is.
The moment I have been building toward for three days.
I slip my hand into hers.
The contact is deliberate. Intentional. Not the accidental brush of fingers or the casual touch of packmates moving through the same space. This is a claim, small and quiet and unmistakable, and I watch her eyes widen slightly as she registers what I am doing.
I pull her closer, closing the distance between us until I can lower my voice to a murmur that only she will hear.
"Are you free?"
The question is simple but loaded, carrying implications that extend far beyond schedule availability.
Mae's breath catches almost imperceptibly, a tiny hitch in her inhale that tells me she understands what I am really asking.
"I..." She blinks, her cheeks flushing with a pink that makes her freckles stand out. "Yeah. I am free. Why?"
I lean in closer, my lips near her ear, my voice dropping to a whisper that sends visible shivers across her skin.
"Do you want to go out with me?"
The question hangs between us for one heartbeat. Two.
Then Mae's entire face transforms.
She beams.
Not a polite smile or a measured response, but a full, radiant beam that lights up her features and makes her hazel eyes sparkle with genuine excitement. The expression is so open, so unguarded, that it steals my breath.
"Yes!" She nods enthusiastically, bouncing slightly on her toes. "Sure! Where do you want to go?"
Relief floods through me, sweet and overwhelming.
"It is a surprise," I say, unable to suppress the smile spreading across my own face. "But there is an outfit for you in my car. With matching shoes."
Mae gawks at me.
"You got me an outfit?" Her voice rises with disbelief. "A whole outfit? With shoes? Etienne Laurent, did you go shopping for me?"
The flush on my cheeks deepens, but I do not look away.
"I wanted to plan this properly. And I noticed you have been recycling the same few outfits since you arrived, probably because you packed light or your wardrobe is limited. I thought you might want to wear something nice that is not borrowed from one of us for once."
Mae's hands fly to her mouth.
The gesture is automatic, an attempt to muffle the squeal of excitement that is clearly building in her throat. Her eyesare shining, her whole body vibrating with a joy that seems disproportionate to the gesture but tells me everything about how rarely people have done things like this for her.
No one has planned anything for her before.
The realization hits me with unexpected force. This girl, this brilliant, fierce, resilient girl who has survived communal housing and financial abandonment and years of being told she was not enough, has never had someone take the time to plan something special just for her.
Until now.
"Pack your stuff faster," Mae commands, her voice slightly squeaky with contained excitement. "We need to go. Right now. Immediately. I cannot believe you did this. I cannot believe I have a whole outfit waiting for me. With matching shoes, Etienne! Matching shoes!"
I chuckle, the sound bubbling up from a place in my chest that has been dormant for longer than I care to admit.
"Give me thirty seconds."
