Page 58

Laughter ripples around the table, just as Enzo appears with another pizza balanced expertly on one hand. “Eat. I make too much.”

“You are a saint, Enzo, a gift sent from the universe.” Saint laughs grabbing a slice.

The atmosphere at dinner tonight makes the group feel fuller—more complete even. We were always good together, but there's something about everyone finally sitting in the truth that makes it feel more solid. Like we're not just enjoying each other's company anymore. We actually know one another.

I look around at my friends. Ember is laughing quietly, unguarded in a way she rarely lets herself be. Meanwhile, Saint is smiling through grief that no longer swallows him whole. Beside me, Jax is looking lighter than I’ve ever seen him, like he’s finally at peace with himself. And Luna and Lennie are wrapped around each other, sharing slices of pizza off the same plate and stealing glances at each other like a couple of teenagers who’ve just found each other. Watching them, I feel something click deep inside me. Love isn't grand gestures. It's this. Sharing food. Holding hands without thinking about it. Giving someone space to fall apart, and choosing to stay once they have.

Jax catches my eye and smiles. It’s such a small thing. And yet… It’s everything. Weirdly, I don’t feel self-conscious—not when we walked in together hand in hand and everyone saw, and not now, catching each other’s eyes over cooling pizza crusts. I just feel… Happy.

He takes my hand under the table and I melt into his touch. God. When did he start feeling like home? And when did I start believing that love is real? Or that it isn’t just reserved for other people? That maybe love is something you find, when you finally feel brave enough to stop running from it.

One by one, everyone disappears inside. Saint dramatically announces he’s “emotionally exhausted” before blowing everyone theatrical goodnight kisses. Ember laughs and follows him towards her own room.

Ten minutes later Lennie wraps an arm around Luna’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head as they disappear, waving goodnight.

And finally, it’s just us left. The two of us. With the fairy lights swaying gently overhead and crickets singing somewhere beyond the courtyard wall.

Jax turns towards me slightly. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s always dangerous.”

He laughs softly and takes a slow breath. “I’m really glad I met you.”

The words are so simple they catch me completely off guard.

His smile fades into something more vulnerable. “If I were to choose the one good thing that’s come out of this weekend…” He looks directly at me. “It’s you.”

My heart does that ridiculous little flip again. “I don’t really know where this goes,” I admit.

“I don’t either. But…” He hesitates, “I’d like to find out.” His eyes search mine. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

For a second I'm caught up in my own self-doubt. Every relationship I'd convinced myself wasn't worth the risk, every fear, every reason for building walls around myself—it all flashes through my mind. Then I think about today, about love surviving grief, about forgiveness and second chances. And I know, without doubt, that I need to take this chance.

I smile. “I’d really like that.”

He closes the distance slowly, giving me every opportunity to change my mind. I don’t. His hand cups my cheek gently, his thumb grazing my jaw as his lips meet mine. Soft. Careful. Like he’s asking the question all over again.

I kiss him back. The answer feels instinctive, natural. Like something my heart had decided long before my brain caught up.

When we finally part, we’re both smiling. “I think that went quite well,” I whisper.

“Understatement of the year.” He doesn’t let go of me. He just looks at me, really looks, the way he did that first night at dinner when I thought he was seeing straight through me and hated it. Now it feels intimate—like he really sees me, and it doesn't scare him at all.

“What?” I ask, when he still hasn’t said anything.

“Nothing.” The corner of his mouth quirks up, uncertain, shy—like he's unsure if this is real. “I just wasn’t expecting this. To feel like…” He shakes his head, like he can’t quite find the words.

“Me either,” I admit quietly.

We kiss again, slower this time, like neither of us is in any hurry to figure out what this means—how it works after this weekend, the convention, real life. We're just content to stay in this part a little longer.

His hand finds the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, and for a moment there's nothing else. No noise. No confusion. No self-doubt. I'm just fully present in the moment with him and for once my brain is quiet.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers against my mouth. Like he’s already decided, but is asking for my permission anyway.

“Yes," I breathe, before he's even finished asking.

“You’re sure?” He searches my face for any hesitation and finds none.