I reached for him. My hand found his jaw, stubbled and warm, and I leaned in.
He pulled away.
Not far. Just enough to break the spell, to put inches of air between my lips and his. His hand came up to catch my wrist, gentle but firm.
"I can't," he said. "Not like this."
The rejection stung, even though I understood it. Even though part of me was grateful for it.
"Why not?"
"Because if I kiss you right now, it won't be because I chose you. It'll be because I'm exhausted and you're here and it's easier than thinking." He released my wrist and pulled back further, putting distance between us. "You deserve better than that. We both do."
"Cassian."
"I meant what I said on the rooftop. About figuring out what you want instead of what you think you should want." He looked at me, and the tenderness in his expression made my chest ache. "But I need to figure out the same thing. And I can't do that by cheating on Maya in a hotel room at three in the morning."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him that Maya didn't matter, that nothing mattered except the two of us and this moment and the years we'd already wasted. But he was right. He was right, and I hated him for it.
"So what do we do?" I asked.
"We sleep. On opposite sides of the bed, like the adults we apparently are." The corner of his mouth lifted, a ghost of his usual humor. "And tomorrow, when we're back at Obsidian and everything is real again, we figure out what comes next."
"And if what comes next is nothing? If you go back to Maya and we pretend this conversation never happened?"
"Then at least we'll know we tried to do it right." He lay back on his side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I don't want to be someone who hurts people, Calla. Even if those people include myself."
I lay down on my side, facing away from him, my heart hammering against my ribs. The rejection burned, but beneath it was something else. Something that felt almost like respect.
He was trying to be honorable. Trying to be fair to everyone, including me.
I just didn't know if honor was going to be enough to bridge the distance between what we wanted and what we were allowed to have.
"Cassian?" I said into the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"For what it's worth, I think you're already someone good. You don't have to prove it by denying yourself everything."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Maybe. But I'd rather deny myself something real than take something stolen."
We lay there in silence after that, both awake, both aware of the other, both trying not to reach across the space between us. The hotel's heating system hummed. Cars passed occasionally on the street below. The world continued on while we stayed frozen.
Sometime around four in the morning, exhaustion finally won. I drifted into uneasy sleep, my dreams a tangle of almost-kisses and words I should have said differently.
When I woke at dawn,we were tangled together.
My head was on his chest, rising and falling with each breath. His arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me close. Our legs were intertwined, knees and ankles slotted together like puzzle pieces designed to fit.
For one perfect, painful moment before full consciousness returned, it felt like coming home.
Then Cassian's phone alarm shattered the silence, and reality crashed back in.
We separated quickly, rolling to opposite sides of the bed, not meeting each other's eyes. My face burned. My heart raced. I could still feel the ghost of his warmth against my skin.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to."
"Neither did I."
