Let myselfhope.
Because I wasn’t the ghost girl anymore.
I wasn’t the cyberbullied scandal or the scholarship pity case.
I was Jade.
Varsity starter.
College prospect.
The girl with the hot boyfriend, the bright future, and maybe—just maybe—a second chance at everything.
The night sky stretched out above us, endless and velvet black, littered with stars like someone had spilled glitter across the heavens.
Leo’s truck was parked in our usual spot on the cliff, theback gate dropped down, blankets piled beneath us, the ocean far below whispering secrets to the rocks. The salty wind teased my hair, but I didn’t shiver.
Not with Leo beside me.
We lay on our backs, side by side, shoulders brushing. His fingers found mine, threading between them like it was second nature now.
And maybe it was.
"You're quiet," he murmured, turning to look at me, his face shadowed in starlight.
I smiled, cheeks warm. "Just… thinking."
"Good things or bad things?"
I rolled onto my side, propped on one elbow. “Good. Weirdly good. Like… is this really my life? I go from hiding behind hedges to starting varsity, straight As, emails from D1 schools, and—” My voice caught. “You.”
He propped up too, facing me now, eyes soft. “Me?”
“You’re… part of it. A big part.”
Something flickered in his gaze. “You know I’d burn this town down for you, right?”
The words landed deep in my chest. “I don’t want fire, Leo.”
He leaned in, brushing my cheek with his knuckles. “Then I’ll build you a home.”
That did it. My heart stuttered.
I didn’t think. I didn’t need to.
I leaned in and kissed him.
This kiss wasn’t the playful kind we’d shared behind buildings or in his car. It was slow. Deep. The kind that undoes you one heartbeat at a time.
When his arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer, I didn’t resist. I sank into him like I belonged there—because maybe I did.
His hoodie slipped from my shoulders. My fingers found the edge of his T-shirt. Neither of us rushed.
There was no pressure. No fear.
Just firelight eyes and the gentle tremble of his breath against mine.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice low and hoarse.
