Blake doesn’t let go of my hand. He hasn’t since the concert ended.
And now, standing just inside the door, he still hasn’t moved away.
“That,” I say softly,“was the best night I’ve had in years.”
He smiles in that quiet way he gets when he’s not teasing me.
“Good,” he answers.“Because I was hoping it would be.”
“You watched me the entire time.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I was appreciating the show,” he says.
I laugh, but the sound comes out softer than before, quieter somehow, because now that we’re alone again, the teasing feels different, not gone, just slower, like everything between us has shifted into something deeper without either of us deciding when that happened.
“You really did this for me,” I say after a moment.
“I did.”
“You remembered something I said in a hospital room when you were barely awake.”
“I remember everything you say,” he replies.
And the way he says it makes my chest tighten unexpectedly.
He steps closer. Suddenly. Not like he’s rushing. Just enough that the space between us disappears without me noticing when it happens.
“You’re still smiling,” he says quietly.
“I’m happy.”
“I like that,” he answers.
“I like you,” I say before I can stop myself.
The words hang between us. And something in his expression shifts when he hears them.
“I like you too,” he says, softer now.
Then his hand lifts slowly, like he’s still giving me time to change my mind even though we both already know I won’t. His fingers brush my cheek, and it makes my breath catch before I even realize I’ve stopped breathing.
“You’re still allowed to kiss me,” I whisper.
“Good,” he murmurs.
And then he does.
The first kiss is gentle. Not hesitant. Just careful. Like he’s making sure I’m still right there with him every second of it.
His mouth moves slowly against mine, warm and steady and familiar already in a way that surprises me. When my hands slide up into the front of his shirt without thinking about it, he lets out the smallest breath against my lips, like that one movement meant more to him than he expected.
“You sure?” he asks quietly, his forehead resting against mine.
“Yes,” I whisper.
