Ten minutes later, I parked at the top of the bluff. The air was colder here, crisp with the scent of sea grass and crashing surf. The stars overhead didn’t twinkle. Theyroared. Exploded in silent arcs across the sky, shooting meteors cutting through black like the world’s quietest fireworks.
I opened the back gate of the SUV, threw down the blanket I’d stashed earlier, and slid in. Jade hesitated just a second before joining me.
She curled into my side. Like she belonged there. Like I could finally exhale.
We lay in silence, her head on my chest, my arm wrapped around her waist. Her hand found mine, fingers laced. I pulled her closer, chin resting on the top of her head.
“I almost didn’t text you,” she whispered.
“Good thing you did,” I murmured. “I was already halfway to your place.”
She smiled into my sweatshirt, and I pressed a kiss to her temple.
Minutes passed like hours. Or maybe hours passed like minutes. I didn’t care. I had time now. With her.
But I couldn’t keep lying.
“She asked,” I said quietly. “My mom.”
Jade stilled. “About me?”
I nodded. “I told her it was just a group project. Bianca had been squawking about us, probably hoping to blow it up before it even started.”
Her head tilted up, eyes searching mine.
“I didn’t deny you because I’m ashamed,” I said quickly. “I denied you because my mother ruins everything good. If she knew I was serious about someone—especially someone who doesn’t come with a pedigree and a prep trust—she’d destroy it. Not because of you. Because of control.”
Jade was quiet. Thoughtful.
I went on. “I’ve never really dated someone for real feelings before. Not like this. Not where I care what they think. Not where I’d throw a punch over it or fight off every entitled clone in that school just to keep it.”
Her voice was soft. “What was Bianca?”
I exhaled. “Convenience. Familiarity. Two bored kids checking off high school boxes. She wanted the last name, the image. I wanted to shut my parents up.”
Jadenodded, then shifted until she was half on top of me. Her cheek against my chest again.
“My parents aren’t like yours,” she said eventually. “They’re good people. Married forever. My dad works in IT, my mom’s in admin. They make it work. We weren’t ever poor. But we’re… average.”
I ran my fingers through her hair.
“And you think I care about that?” I asked, softly but firmly.
“I think you were raised to care about that.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But then I met you. And now I don’t give a damn what I was raised to do. All I know is when you walked into that bonfire in those cutoff shorts with that smart mouth and that look in your eyes like you’d already survived the worst—that’swhen I started thinking different.”
A shooting star sliced through the sky.
She leaned up just enough to kiss me again. Slower this time. Sweeter.
This wasn’t about lust.
It was about relief.
About finally letting someone in without having to perform, posture, or pose.
When we pulled apart, she whispered, “Thank you for coming tonight.”
