fourty
Aaliyah's POV
Leo walks me to his apartment with this... quiet urgency.
Not rushing.
But like every step brings him closer to something he's been craving for days.
He unlocks the door, steps aside, and nods for me to walk in first.
It feels different this time.
Safer.
Softer.
Like we both know what this space means now.
He closes the door behind us.
"Something to drink?" he asks, voice softer than usual.
"Water's fine."
He hands me a bottle, our fingers brushing lightly-
and yeah, my stomach flips like I'm twelve.
We settle on the couch.
And by "settle," I mean:
He sits a foot away from me.
Too respectful.
Too careful.
Too tense.
Like he's afraid moving an inch closer will undo the fragile peace we built.
I wiggle closer until our thighs touch.
He exhales like he'd been holding that breath since the gym.
"Better," I say softly.
He tilts his head down, smiling a tiny crooked smile that ruins me.
"You always want to sit this close?" he murmurs.
"Mhm."
"Good," he whispers, brushing his thumb over my knee.
"'Cause I do too."
Heat curls low in my stomach.
?
We talk for a while-
nothing huge, just little things.
How practice went.
How badly he pretends to hate cardio.
How Coach calls him his "feral golden boy."
He groans.
"Please don't ever repeat that."
I grin.
"No promises."
He nudges my leg with his.
"You're trouble."
"You like it."
He looks at me slowly.
Deeply.
"I do," he murmurs, voice low.
My cheeks warm.
Silence falls.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
His gaze drifts down my legs, then back up.
Slow.
Hungry.
But controlled.
Respectful.
His hand rests on the couch between us-open.
Waiting.
I slide my fingers into his.
He tenses.
Then relaxes.
Then breathes out hard like he's trying not to pull me into his lap.
"Liya..." he murmurs, kissing the back of my hand.
Just one soft kiss.
But it hits like fire.
"You okay?" I whisper.
He nods.
Barely.
"You?" he asks.
My voice is small.
"Yeah."
He lifts our joined hands and presses them to his chest-
right over his heart.
"Good," he whispers.
?
We shift so I'm tucked into his side, my legs draped over his lap.
He places his hand-large, warm-on my thigh.
Not moving.
Not gripping.
Just resting there.
But the weight of it sends a slow heat through my entire body.
I lean my head on his shoulder.
He turns his head, nose grazing my hair.
"You smell like my detergent," he says softly.
"You like that?"
His grip on my thigh tightens just slightly.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "A lot."
A warmth spreads through my chest.
I tilt my head, meeting his eyes.
He looks undone.
Soft.
Needing.
But patient.
So I lean up and kiss his jaw.
A slow, teasing brush of my lips.
He inhales sharply.
"Aaliyah," he warns softly.
"That's my name," I whisper.
His fingers slide half an inch up my thigh.
"You keep doing things like that," he murmurs, "and I'm gonna forget how to be gentle."
My breath catches.
"Maybe I like when you're a little less gentle."
He closes his eyes like I just punched the breath out of him.
"Liya."
I kiss him-soft, slow, deep enough to make him groan into my mouth.
His hands slide up my waist, fingertips brushing under my shirt-
And then he pulls back suddenly, breathing hard.
"Not tonight," he whispers.
I blink.
Not offended.
Just surprised.
"Why?"
He swallows, cupping my face in both hands.
"Because I want to take you out first."
My heart stutters.
"Take me out?" I repeat.
He nods, eyes warm.
"A real date," he murmurs.
"Outside. Not in here. Not rushed. Not because we're emotional or... worked up."
His thumb strokes my cheekbone.
"I want you dressed up," he whispers.
"I want to pick you up.
Open your door.
Take you somewhere nice.
Look at you across a table and try not to lose my mind."
My breath stutters.
"And then," he adds softly, leaning his forehead to mine,
"maybe we end up here. But only after you know I'm not just trying to get you in my bed."
My chest melts.
He kisses me once-gentle, deliberate, lingering.
"So yeah," he whispers against my lips.
"Let me take you on a real date."
I smile so hard it hurts.
"When?"
His voice drops to a sinful rumble:
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" I whisper.
He nods.
"I already made reservations."
My eyes widen.
"You did?"
"Yeah," he murmurs. "Was gonna ask you even if you were still mad at me."
I laugh softly, full of too many feelings.
"Okay," I whisper. "Take me out tomorrow."
He grins, relieved and warm and in love in a way he doesn't say but I feel.
"Good," he says, kissing my cheek.
"Then come here."
He pulls me back into his arms.
We cuddle.
Warm.
Safe.
Wrapped up in each other.
His fingers tracing shapes on my thigh.
My face tucked into his neck.
And for the first time in days...
It feels easy.
It feels right.
It feels like us.