16

16
It had been ten minutes since Kate left me in the park, and yet I was still glued to the swing.
The fading orange glow of sunset cast long shadows across the grass, but I sat there unmoving, staring blankly at the empty space in front of me.
My mind told me to go, that it was getting late. But my body… it felt heavy, unwilling to move.

She always did this to me. Kate. That hug from behind, the soft kiss on the top of my head—God, it used to be one of the things I adored about her.
That affectionate boldness, the way she’d act like we were the only people in the world, no matter how many eyes were watching. It made me feel wanted, back then.

But now? I wasn’t sure how I felt.

Was I… missing her?

The question came uninvited, and it caught me completely off guard. I didn’t even know how to answer myself.

I sighed and finally stood up, brushing invisible dust off my denim shorts as I cast one last look at the swing she’d just been sitting on. I wasn’t going to let a ghost of the past unhinge my present. At least, I didn’t think I would.

The walk home was quiet—too quiet. The sound of my footsteps on the pavement, the distant hum of traffic, the breeze rustling the leaves... yet all I could hear was her voice, the way she said my name, how her eyes looked when they searched mine, filled with something I hadn’t seen in a long time: regret. Or maybe that was just what I wanted to see.

By the time I reached my building, it was almost 8:00. My legs moved almost on their own, as if they already knew where I needed to be. I didn’t even bother going to my place—I walked straight to Emma’s door.

I stood there for a few seconds, unsure. Should I ring the bell? Knock? Walk away?

I chose to knock, gently at first. About fifteen seconds passed before the door swung open.

There she was.

Emma.

Hair tied messily, face clean, and dressed in pink tank top and shorts, looking like she had just stepped out of some warm domestic dream. But her face wasn’t soft. No smile. No greeting.

Just… Emma, looking at me, expression unreadable.

I opened my mouth, but no words came. Her eyes held mine, waiting.

Then, without saying anything, she turned and walked toward the couch, leaving the door open behind her.

I hovered at the entrance until I heard her voice call out—dry, but not entirely unkind. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you coming in?”

I closed the door and stepped inside, glancing around like I hadn’t already been here a hundred times. The air smelled faintly of popcorn and clean laundry. Her place was dim, cozy, the TV casting flickers of light across the room.

Still unsure if I should sit beside her, I pulled one of the barstools from the kitchen and plopped it down next to the couch, settling awkwardly into it.

She looked at me, confused, a half-full chip bag in her lap and two bottles of beer opened on the table. “What are you doing?”

We spoke at the same time.

“What are you doing?” she asked again, pointing at my odd choice of seating.

“I’m… sitting. And hopefully about to watch whatever that is with you?” I pointed at the movie playing on the TV.

Her brows pulled together. “I mean why are you sitting there and not here?” She patted the empty spot next to her, the one I usually occupied. Her side of the couch.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared. Probably looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Well?” she pushed, arching a single brow with all the confidence of someone who knew I’d fold.

And I did. I abandoned the stool like it offended me and dropped onto the couch beside her, letting myself sink into the space I knew so well. She didn’t say anything as her eyes trailed mine, watching me settle like I belonged there.

Then I noticed the bottles. “Are you drinking?”

She shrugged. “My sister dropped by. She brought dinner and beer.”

She didn’t elaborate. Her eyes went back to the screen like I wasn’t even there. Her tone was cold, but not icy. Indifferent.

I leaned back and shut my eyes for a second, trying to find the right words to ease the silence. But I didn’t know what to say. Was she mad about Kate? Or something else? Her sister, maybe? No… it had to be me. But jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired,” she said suddenly, voice sharp.

I startled. “What?”

“I didn’t know talking could be exhausting,” she muttered as she grabbed her bottle and finished what was left.

I stared at her, stunned. Where was that coming from?

Before I could find the words, she spoke again. “I think you should go. You look tired. And I’m not in the mood to entertain you tonight.”

The words hit me like a slap, sharp and unexpected. Pain flared in my chest. I looked at her, but she wasn’t even facing me.

“Are you… are you kicking me out?” I asked, my voice cracking despite my best effort to sound unaffected.

She didn’t answer, and the silence between us felt like a growing canyon. Was I that much of a burden to her?

But I wasn’t going to leave.

Without a word, I shifted closer, swung my legs up, and lay down across the couch, pulling her arm across my body like a blanket. She stiffened slightly, surprised.

I braced for an explosion. For teasing, yelling, the usual Emma reaction.

But none came.

When I peeked up at her, she was looking down at me… and smiling.

“You look cute,” she said softly.

Wait—what?

Did I hear that right?

I sat up, heart thudding, and cupped her face, needing to be sure this was real. “So… you're in the mood now?” I asked, barely a whisper.

She didn’t answer with words. She just placed her hands over mine, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe right.

She was so beautiful. Her hazel eyes sparkled even in the low light, and her lashes brushed her cheeks like they were crafted by hand. My gaze dropped to her lips—soft, parted, just slightly. My breath hitched.

I didn’t overthink it.

I leaned forward, slowly, watching for hesitation.

But there was none.

She tilted her head, her gaze flicking to my lips, and I swear my heart stopped.

And then I kissed her.

Her lips were warm, soft, unsure—but they met mine. And in that second, everything else disappeared. My hand slid up to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair as I pulled her closer. Her hands found my arm, then my waist, not pushing me away—just holding.

She let out a soft, breathy moan, and it sent a ripple down my spine. That tiny sound unlocked something in me.

We kissed again, slower this time. Deeper.

I didn’t want to let go. Didn’t want to open my eyes. Didn’t want this moment to end.

But most of all… I didn’t want to pretend anymore.

This—whatever this was—it was real.
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