Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Melissa
Iwake up already warm.
Not from the room or the blankets, but from the memory.
The kiss comes back to me in pieces at first. His hands on my face. The way he looked at my mouth like he was starving for it. The slow, deliberate way he kissed me.
My stomach is in knots.
I roll onto my side and pull the covers up, staring at the sunlight creeping across the wall. My lips still feel tender, like my body hasn’t caught up to the fact that he’s not here.
What gets me isn’t that he kissed me. It’s how badly I wanted him not to stop.
I hadn’t expected that. The ache, the pull, the way my body leaned into his touch like it recognized him before my mind did. When his hand slid to my knee, then higher, then back down again, I almost protested. Almost begged for him to touch me where I desperately needed it.
Enough so that when I got home, I went straight to bed and touched myself until a mediocre release came.
I close my eyes, letting myself relive it for a second longer. The restraint was intoxicating … and infuriating.
I wanted more in a way that scared me because it didn’t feel tangled in grief or guilt.
It felt alive.
A weight settles suddenly on my mattress.
“Good morning,” Kayla announces far too loudly.
I yelp, clutching the covers. “Jeez, Kayla!”
She grins down at me, already bouncing. “You kissed him.”
“I—” I stop. “How do you know that?”
“You’re glowing,” she says. “And your lips look … well used.”
I groan, burying my face in the pillow. “Can we not analyze my face before coffee?”
She ignores that completely. “Details. Immediately.”
I sit up reluctantly, hair a mess, heart still racing. “It was only a kiss.”
Kayla’s eyebrow shoots up. “That sentence is a lie.”
I sigh. “Okay. It wasn’t simply a kiss.”
“Thank you,” she says, settling cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “Continue.”
I hesitate, then take a breath. “He was … careful. Intentional. Like he was holding back what he really wanted.”
Kayla’s smile softens. “And how did that make you feel?”
I don’t answer right away because the truth surprises me.
“It made me want him more,” I admit quietly. “Not just emotionally. Physically. In a way I didn’t expect.”
Her eyes widen, not in judgment, but delight.
“Melissa,” she says gently, “you’re allowed to want sex.”
“I know,” I say quickly. “I didn’t think it would feel like this. Like … my body already knows him.”
Kayla laughs softly. “Damn. That’s hot.”
I press my palms into the mattress. “I’ve never wanted someone like this before. Not even with Bryce. Not like this.”
The words hang in the air, heavy but honest.
Kayla studies me for a moment, then scoots closer. “That doesn’t mean you loved Bryce less.”
“I know,” I whisper. “It means this is different.”
“And new,” she adds. “And terrifying.”
“And exciting,” I admit. “Which might be the scariest part.”
Kayla grins. “So, do you want him?”
The answer comes easily. “Yes.”
Not because I’m lonely. Not because I’m replacing anything. But because my body and heart are both awake in a way they haven’t been in years.
Kayla claps her hands once. “Excellent. Then we proceed with confidence.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“True,” she agrees. “But you’re also officially back in the land of desire, and I will not watch as you let it pass you by.”
I lean back against the pillows, a smile tugging at my mouth as the memory of his kiss resurfaces.
For the first time in a long time, wanting someone doesn’t feel like betrayal. It feels like possibility.
After Kayla finally leaves me alone, armed with a warning about “hydration” and “stretching” that I refuse to unpack, I wander into the kitchen and pour myself coffee. The first cup usually wakes my body, but that was already done the moment I thought about Colton.
Sunday has always been my decompression day. Laundry. Errands. Mental preparation for the week ahead. But today, everything feels suspended, like I’m waiting for something … or someone … that hasn’t arrived yet.
I check my phone without meaning to. Nothing. I tell myself not to read into that. He didn’t promise anything. Neither did I. Still, the absence feels loud.
I’m folding towels when my phone buzzes. My heart jumps embarrassingly hard.
Colton: Did you make it inside okay last night?
I stare at the screen longer than necessary before answering, trying to control my erratic heartbeat.
Me: I did. Eventually. I might’ve stood in my doorway for a minute, just … thinking.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Colton: Good. I was hoping you would.
Heat curls low in my stomach.
Me: I’m still thinking actually.
Another pause.
Colton: That makes two of us.
I sink onto the couch, phone warm in my hand.
Me: Is that allowed? Thinking?
Colton: I’ve done a lot of thinking, Mel. Very dirty thinking. The kind of thinking that makes it hard to get anything done.
I smile to myself as I look around the room like I might get caught.
Me: Same. Tomorrow’s going to be … interesting.
The dots appear almost immediately this time.
Colton: It will be. But we’ll behave.
I bite my lip.
Me: Define behave.
A beat.
Colton: Don’t tempt me. I’m trying to do this right and not rush anything.
I laugh quietly, pressing my phone to my chest for a second before replying.
Me: I appreciate it. But I don’t think we need to go too slow.
Colton: I’ll see you tomorrow, Mel. After I go take another cold shower.
I laugh to myself. I don’t remember flirting being so fun.
I spend the rest of the day half present. I grocery shop. I meal prep. I answer emails. But every quiet moment is filled with memory and fantasy.
By Sunday night, I’m back in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, I’ll see him again. In scrubs. In hallways. In shared glances that will mean something entirely new.