Charlie
The walk to the zoo is filled with easy flirting and teasing bumps of our shoulders. It’s nice. Better than nice really. It’s what I’ve been missing the last few months.
We could be watching paint dry today and I would be happy just to be in his company.
He’s the same, but different. The same chemistry flares between us, warm and electric, but the heavy darkness that used to cling to him has lifted a little.
He smiles easier. His touches linger without that desperate edge.
I like this version of him—maybe even more than the old one.
And I’m looking forward to learning even more about who he’s becoming.
When we reach the snow leopard enclosure, I lean against the railing and glance sideways at him, smirking.
“So,” I say, voice light and teasing, “ready to pretend you’re obsessed with the snow leopards again? Or are we dropping the act this time?”
Hunter chuckles, low and warm, already caught. “We both know I was full of shit last time. I’m not even going to try this round.”
“Good,” I laugh. “I respect the honesty.”
He leans in closer, shoulder pressed to mine. “Truth? I’m only here for one thing today.”
“Yeah?” I tilt my head, playing along. “And what’s that?”
“You.” His voice drops. “I don’t care if we watch leopards, wolves, or pigeons fighting over a french fry. I just wanted more time with you.”
The words hit soft and warm. I turn toward him, letting my hand rest on his forearm.
“You’re getting dangerously good at saying the right thing,” I murmur.
Hunter’s eyes flick down to my mouth, then back up. “Trying my best. Still figuring out how not to scare you off.”
“You’re not scaring me off.” I slide my fingers down to brush his, then lace them together. “Keep talking like that and I might be the one who forgets we’re taking things slow.”
His thumb strokes over the back of my hand. “Noted.”
We’re standing so close now. The rest of the zoo fades into background noise—kids laughing, animals moving, distant chatter. All I can focus on is the way Hunter’s looking at me, as though I’m something precious he’s afraid to break but desperately wants to touch.
I rise up on my tiptoes before I can overthink it, sliding my free hand up his chest, and press my lips to his.
Hunter freezes for half a second, stunned. Then a low, surprised sound rumbles in his throat, and he kisses me back.
The first press is soft, almost careful—warm lips against mine, the faint scratch of his stubble, the way his breath catches.
Then he tilts his head and deepens it, and everything else disappears.
His mouth is hot and slow, tasting faintly of the mint gum he must have chewed on the walk over.
When his tongue brushes mine, gentle but sure, a spark shoots straight down my spine.
I make a small, helpless sound into his mouth, and he swallows it, one big hand cupping the side of my face like I’m fragile, thumb stroking my cheekbone with aching tenderness.
His other hand tightens around mine, grounding us both, fingers laced so tightly it feels like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
I can feel the slight tremor in his grip, the barely-leashed want behind every careful movement of his lips.
He kisses like he’s memorizing me—slow, deep pulls that make my knees weak, little nips at my bottom lip that send heat pooling low in my stomach.
I press closer, chest to chest, and he lets out another quiet groan that vibrates through me.
The sound is so raw, so hungry, that my fingers curl into his shirt, holding on as the kiss turns a shade filthier, our tongues sliding, breaths mingling, the faint taste of mint and coffee still lingering between us.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Hunter rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed, lips parted and a little swollen. His thumb keeps stroking my cheek like he can’t stop touching me.
“Fuck, Charlie…” he breathes. “You can’t kiss me like that and expect me to behave.”
I laugh shakily, still on my tiptoes, arms looped around his neck. “Who said I wanted you to behave?”
“Another thing you definitely shouldn’t say to me,” he mutters, pressing another slow, lingering kiss to my lips like he physically can’t stop himself.
I smile against his mouth, heart pounding.
I thought about this after last night—really thought about it.
The fear is still there, quiet in the background, but it doesn’t feel bigger than this anymore.
I want him. All of him. The messy parts, the healing parts, the man who’s trying so hard to be better.
I’m ready for everything a relationship with Hunter entails.
I pull back just enough to look at him, my fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I mean it,” I say softly. “I’m ready, Hunter. For this. For us. Not just dates and flirting. All of it.”
His eyes search mine, dark and intense, a flicker of surprise and something deeper crossing his face. For a second, he doesn’t speak, just holds me there, thumb still brushing my cheek.
“You sure?” he asks, voice rough. “I don’t want to push. I can wait as long as you need.”
“I’m sure.” I lean in and kiss him again, softer this time, a promise instead of heat. “I want you. All of you. The last few months have been awful without you, and I regretted telling you we had to heal apart to be together every single day.”
Hunter’s breath catches. He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed for a moment like he’s letting the words sink in.
“But you were right,” he murmurs. “We did need to heal to be the best versions of ourselves for each other.”
I nod, fingers tightening in his shirt. “I know. But I still missed you like crazy. Even when I was angry. Even when I was scared. I kept painting you anyway because I couldn’t stop.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes shiny with emotion.
“I missed you, too. Every damn day. I’d see something funny and want to text you.
I’d have a good day in therapy and wish I could tell you about it.
” His voice drops lower. “I read and reread every single text you ever sent me almost every day.”
The confession makes my chest ache in the best way. I rise up again and kiss him, slower, deeper, pouring everything I’ve been holding back into it. He groans softly into my mouth, one hand sliding to my waist, fingers slipping under the hem of my hoodie to rest against bare skin.
When we break apart this time, we’re both breathing harder. Hunter’s lips are flushed, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at me.
“Keep kissing me like that,” he says, voice husky, “and I’m going to forget we’re in public.”
I grin, still a little breathless. “I already have.”
He laughs quietly, pressing his forehead to mine again. “You’re going to be the death of me, Charlie. But fuck… what a way to go.”
We stay wrapped up like that for a long minute, just breathing each other in while the snow leopards move lazily behind us. Eventually, he pulls back.
“I love you, Charlie. I haven’t stopped since the first time we were here.”
I sink my teeth into my lower lip before slowly releasing it. My heart now identifies as an acrobat and is flipping and twisting more than is humanly possible.
“I love you, too,” I whisper.
The words feel huge and terrifying and absolutely right.
Hunter’s breath catches, and then he’s kissing me again—slower this time, deeper, as though he’s sealing the confession into my skin.
One of his hands slides to the nape of my neck, holding me there as his tongue brushes mine, gentle but sure.
I melt into it, fingers fisting in his shirt, tasting love and relief and months of missing him all at once.
When we break apart, we’re both a little shaky.
Hunter rests his forehead against mine again, eyes closed. “Say it again,” he murmurs.
I smile, brushing my nose against his. “I love you, Hunter. Even when you were a mess. Even when I was a mess. I still loved you.”
He lets out a shaky breath that sounds dangerously close to a laugh or maybe a sob. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Too bad,” I tease softly, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got me anyway.”
We stay like that for a while, wrapped up together in front of the snow leopards, ignoring the rest of the world. His arms are tight around me, mine around his neck, and for the first time in forever, everything feels…possible.
Eventually, he pulls back just enough to look at me, thumb tracing my bottom lip.
“So,” he says, voice rough but smiling, “want to see the wolves? Or should we go back to your place and continue this conversation somewhere more private?”
I pretend to think about it, then rise up to kiss him once more, quick and teasing.
“Wolves first,” I say against his lips. “Then my place. I want the whole date… and then I want you.”