My heart is screaming at me.
It’s not just attraction, not just the comfort of having someone to lean on. I’m falling for Nate. And that’s terrifying.
This was supposed to be fake. A temporary solution, an escape, a plan that made sense on paper. But now, every look he gives me feels like a spark I can’t put out, every touch lingers too long, every kiss curls into my soul and stays there.
I lean back against the kitchen counter and inhale deeply, trying to force logic back into the equation. What am I supposed to do?
Dinner’s ready. The kitchen smells like home—roasted herbs, warm bread, something sweet and vanilla-laced cooling on the island behind me. I’ve already set the table, lit a single candle just because it made the room feel less… big. Less empty.
I take off the apron and fold it neatly over the back of the chair, but my feet don’t move toward the table. Instead, they drag me upstairs. Like I don’t have a choice. Like I need to see him.
The sound of water running grows louder as I reach the bedroom. The ensuite door is slightly ajar, steam slipping out in curls like a secret being whispered. Then I hear it—Nate humming. A song I don’t recognize, soft and low and unguarded.
It makes me smile.
It’s this side of him that wrecks me—the one no one else gets to see. The boy beneath the man. The man who doesn’t always have to be the heir, the athlete, the one who holds everything together. When he’s alone, he lets go. He’s real. And that realness? It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.
I walk to the edge of the bed, fingers trembling slightly as they reach for the buttons of his shirt I’m still wearing. My heart pounds in my chest, like it knows something I haven’t yet said out loud.
What would our life look like if we gave this a real chance?
The shirt slips from my shoulders as I wonder—what if I stop pretending? What if I let myself love him? Could he love me back? Could we turn this illusion into something that lasts?
I step toward the bathroom door, the cool air brushing my skin. I hear him still singing, completely unaware of the storm building in my chest.
I want to walk in and wrap my arms around him, press my cheek to his back and tell him he’s not alone. That I see him. All of him. That I don’t want this to be a deal anymore. I want to be his—his person, his heart, his future.
I close my eyes and whisper to the empty space between us.
Please, tell me he feels the same.
The bathroom is cloaked in steam, the heat clinging to my skin like a second layer. The scent of his soap—warm, earthy, familiar—fills my lungs as I quietly open the glass door of the shower.
He doesn’t hear me at first. Water cascades over his back, down his strong shoulders, his head tilted slightly under the stream. I watch him for a moment, heart pounding in my chest. How is it possible to feel so drawn to someone I’m supposed to be pretending with?
My fingers reach out, trembling slightly, and trace the curve of his spine. He stiffens for the briefest second before relaxing into my touch.
My lips brush against his back. Just a featherlight kiss. A silent I’m here.
“Hey, baby,” he says, voice low and rough like gravel wrapped in velvet.
He turns to face me, eyes dark and intense as they meet mine. His gaze drops for a second, slowly drinking me in, before returning to my face with a crooked smile that steals the air from my lungs.
“I was hoping you’d join me,” he murmurs, hands already reaching for my waist, pulling me in.
“Oh really?” I tease softly, my voice a whisper against the shower’s lull. “Why?”
His lips hover inches from mine. “Because I fucking missed you so much.”
His words curl around me like a rope, binding me tighter to him than I ever meant to be. I shouldn’t need that sentence to mean more. But I do.
“I missed you too,” I reply, a little breathless, my hands gliding up his chest, damp and warm beneath my touch.
His mouth crashes into mine then, raw and hungry, like he’s been waiting all day to kiss me. And maybe he has. Maybe we both have. I pour everything into it—every moment I’ve spent pretending, every secret glance, every heartbeat that’s whispered his name when I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.
I rise onto my toes, deepening the kiss, pushing closer until there's no space left between us. His hands roam over my back, anchoring me in a world that feels suddenly real, not staged or strategic.
The water pelts down around us, but I barely feel it anymore.
