He pulled into a spot and cut the engine. The sudden silence felt loud.
For a second, neither of us moved.
The streetlight cast soft shadows through the windshield, painting his face in warm gold and dark contrast. He looked over at me, his expression unreadable but intent, like he was bracing himself for something he couldn’t quite name.
“You nervous?” he asked quietly.
I swallowed. “A little.”
“Why?”
I shrugged, trying for honesty. “Feels like you’re… stepping into my world.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. Then he squeezed my thigh once before pulling his hand away and opening his door. The loss of warmth made me miss it immediately.
He came around to open my door, my heart still racing, and watched as he took in the building, the small balcony above my unit, the glow of light spilling through my window.
For the first time, I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.
Not the lawyer. Not Cami’s best friend. Not Harper’ssomething.
Justme.
And as I unlocked the door, letting him step inside, I realized this wasn’t just about showing him where I lived.
It was about letting him see who I was when no one else was watching.
That thought scared me.
He stepped inside and didn’t say anything at first.
Just… looked.
His gaze moved slowly, deliberately, as if taking inventory. He lingered on my couch, with the throw blanket folded just-so on one arm, the small dining table by the window, framed prints lining the wall. A half-burned candle on the coffee table. A stack of mail I’d meant to sort. Evidence of a life lived alone, but thoughtfully.
“It seems Harper left her mark here, too,” he said finally, low and contemplative, taking in a pile of papers and crayons with her drawings on them.
I smiled, suddenly self-conscious. “Of course she did.”
He nodded like that made sense, then he turned to me. And suddenly, we were standing too close without having planned it. Close enough that I could see the faint crease between his brows, the way his jaw tightened when he was thinking too hard. Close enough that the air between us felt charged, electric.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, softer than before.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He held my gaze for a beat longer before his hand came up slowly, thumb brushing my jaw. When he kissed me, it wasn’t rushed. It was patient, intentional.
There was a surprising softness to the roughness of his stubble, a gentle contradiction that caught me off guard.
My back met the cool wood of the door with a soft thud as he followed through, his body bracketing mine without crowding, one hand sliding around my waist and landing on the small of my back. He tasted like dinner and something unmistakably him; clean, grounded, familiar already.
I exhaled into his mouth, my hands finding his jacket, gripping without thinking.
He broke the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against mine. “I’ve been waiting all week to…do that.”
“Took you long enough,” I whispered.
“You always look real proud of yourself when you talk back,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s distracting.”
