“I’ve been thinking that maybe—”
We both stop.
He huffs out a laugh. I do the same, the sound soft and slightly disbelieving.
“Sorry,” he says.
“No, you go,” I reply, immediately.
We hesitate again. It’s ridiculous and oddly reassuring.
“I was going to say,” he starts, eyes on his mug like it might give him stage directions, “that I know you weren’t looking for anything. And I’m not trying to persuade you into a version of your life you’ve already decided against. But… I’d like to see where this goes. Carefully. If you do.”
My chest tightens. Not with fear. With recognition.
“I was going to say,” I reply slowly, “that I’m very good at liking people until they want something from me. And I’ve been burnt enough times to know I don’t bounce back quickly anymore.”
He nods. Doesn’t interrupt. That matters.
“I don’t want a whirlwind,” I continue. “Or a grand plan. Or expectations I didn’t sign up for. I want something that survives boredom. And bad moods. And me panicking that I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
He finally looks up.
“That,” he says quietly, “sounds… achievable.”
Silence settles again. Softer this time. Less charged. More honest.
Hadrian chews thoughtfully, entirely unconcerned with our emotional milestones.
“So,” I say, because apparently I am still me, “we’re agreeing to try without promising to be miraculous.”
He lifts an eyebrow, that familiar, infuriatingly attractive expression.
“Well,” he says, “I feel it would be rude to disappoint the gecko after all this effort.”
Hadrian crunches again, unmoved by responsibility.
“I knew it,” I say. “You secretly just want to be close to Hadrian.”
“I really, really don’t,” he replies. “But I’m willing to accept that I have to share you with him.”
I snort. He smiles. The quiet one. The one that doesn’t perform.
“So,” he says lightly, “we take it slowly. Ordinary. No pretending this fixes everything.”
“No pretending,” I agree. “No pressure.”
“No dramatic declarations.”
“Absolutely none.”
We look at each other for a beat too long.
Then he steps closer, slow enough that I could stop him if I wanted to.
I don’t.
The kiss is gentle. Brief. Not a promise. More an understanding.
