37 expected ending
It's different this time.
Not the place-we've done this before. Same kind of setting, same kind of energy, people around us who pretend they're not watching while very obviously watching.
Not the group either-Jess beside me, loud and unapologetic as always, Declan already halfway into a joke he hasn't even finished yet, Riley there too but on his side of things, fitting into that world like she's always belonged in it.
It's us.
Or... whatever this is now.
Because it's easier.
That's the word for it.
Easier in a way that doesn't make sense if you think about it too much.
I'm not forcing anything. I'm not measuring every reaction or calculating every move like I was at the beginning. I don't feel like I'm constantly bracing for the next argument, the next sarcastic comment, the next moment where we snap back into something sharp and defensive.
It just... happens.
The conversation flows without effort, slipping between jokes and something softer without anyone pointing it out.
Caiden says something under his breath at one point that makes me laugh before I even realize I'm going to, and I catch the way his expression shifts for half a second, like he didn't expect that either.
Jess notices.
Of course she does.
She doesn't say anything, but I can feel her watching, her attention sharper now, like she's piecing something together in real time.
Declan, on the other hand, isn't subtle at all.
"This is disgusting," he mutters at one point, looking between us like we've personally offended him. "You guys are getting along. I don't like it."
"Then leave," I say, not even looking at him.
He grins. "Not a chance."
Caiden huffs out a quiet laugh beside me, and it's so normal that it almost throws me off.
Because this isn't what this was supposed to be.
?
It's later when things shift. Not dramatically, just... gradually.
The group starts to split without really announcing it, conversations breaking off, people heading in different directions.
Jess is already halfway into something with Riley, the two of them talking about something I'm only half listening to, while Declan gets pulled into another conversation nearby.
And suddenly, it's just... us.
Again.
It shouldn't feel different. We've been alone before.
But it does.
There are people around us. That hasn't changed. A few glances linger a little too long, a couple of phones subtly angled in our direction like they're not trying to be obvious about it.
They're waiting, I can feel it.
That same expectation that's been building for weeks now.
The version of us they think they know.
The one they've already decided is real.
I shift my weight slightly, crossing my arms like that somehow makes it less obvious.
"They're staring," I mutter.
"I noticed," Caiden says.
There's no irritation in his voice, no edge, just... awareness. And something else under it I don't quite want to look at too closely.
I glance at him briefly, then away again.
"We should probably..." I trail off, not finishing the sentence.
We should probably play along.
We should probably give them what they expect.
We should probably-
He steps a little closer before I can overthink it.
Not abruptly, not in a way that draws attention, but just enough that the space between us disappears.
My breath catches, barely noticeable, but I feel it.
This is familiar. It's supposed to be. We've done this before. This part is easy. It's just... a performance.
I tilt my head slightly, my hand coming up like it has before, like I know exactly where it's supposed to go.
So does he.
And for a second, it is exactly that.
His hand finds my jaw, steady and deliberate, and I lean in without hesitation because this is what we do.
This is what they're waiting for.
This is what we're supposed to be.
Our lips meet, and it starts like it always does-
precise, measured, something we both understand.
But then... something shifts. Not all at once, not dramatically, just enough.
His grip tightens slightly, not in a way that hurts, just in a way that feels... real. Less practiced. Less controlled.
I feel it before I register it, the way my hand doesn't just rest against him anymore, the way I move closer without thinking about it.
The kiss slows, softens. And suddenly it doesn't feel like something we're doing for anyone else.
It feels... dangerous.
Because this isn't part of it. This wasn't planned.
This wasn't supposed to happen. But neither of us pulls away. Not immediately, not even when we probably should.
There's a moment-a small, quiet one-where everything else fades just enough that I forget where we are, who might be watching, what this is supposed to be.
And in that moment, it's just-
him.
Closer than he should be, real in a way that makes something in my chest tighten unexpectedly.
We linger, too long.
I know it. He knows it. And when we finally pull back, it's not abrupt. It's slow, like neither of us is in a rush to break it.
For a second, we just stand there, too close, the air between us heavier than it was before.
I don't say anything. Neither does he. Because there isn't really anything to say. Not without ruining it, not without turning it back into something easier to define.
So instead, I take a small step back, like nothing just happened. Like that didn't feel different, like I'm still in control of this.
"Good enough?" I say lightly, glancing past him at the people who are very much still watching.
His gaze stays on me a second longer than it should before he answers.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "Good enough."
But something about the way he says it makes it clear-
it wasn't just that.
And we both know it.