Chapter 28 #3
“Sorry,” I said. The word cracked halfway through. His hands stayed where they were.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said it too quickly but he didn’t call me on it. He just looked at me, his gaze running from my eyes down to my mouth. I felt it immediately—the absence. The sting. The way my lips still burned.
“You took off your lipstick,” he said, quietly.
My stomach dropped. What if he didn’t like me as much like this?
“I did,” I whispered.
He lifted his hand, his thumb brushing my lower lip, which had been stinging from scrubbing all the lipstick off but was now burning for an entirely different reason. My breath caught at his contact. His gaze came back to my eyes.
“Good,” he said. No smile. No joke. “This suited you better anyway.”
And standing there in the dim hallway, music thudding faintly through the walls, my lips still stinging and my arms still warm where he held me, my heart warmed as I looked at him.
“When did you get here?” I asked, then cleared my throat, trying to clear the emotion from it.
“When you were blowing out your candles.” Cole’s eyes still searched my face like he still might find a sign of something wrong. Then his voice dropped. “What did you wish for?”
I thought back to those sixteen candles, to my wish.
Please let him walk through the door.
I guess I never specified which ‘him’ I meant, but now that Cole was standing here in front of me, wiping my tears and making me feel seen, I realized I had hoped he’d show up even more.
But instead of admitting that to him, I just shrugged.
“I thought if you said what you wished for it wouldn’t come true. ”
His lips pulled up in a smirk like he could see right through me. And honestly, he probably could. He seemed to recognize emotions before I could even clock them myself.
The hallway felt smaller suddenly. My arms still tingled where he’d held me, warmth pressing against the thin fabric of my sleeves. My heart thudded loud enough that I was sure he could hear it.
He didn’t move away. He just stayed there, close, eyes holding mine, steady. I wanted to say something—anything—but my throat had gone dry, the words curling and choking before they could form.
Then he stepped slightly sideways, nodding toward the stairs. “Want to get away from all this?”
I swallowed again. My pulse jumped. I nodded quickly.
He gently interlaced his fingers with mine and walked with me toward the stairs.
We moved together, careful not to draw attention, slipping past the living room where the party still hummed behind us.
Laughter. Forks scraping plates. Music thumping faintly.
I could feel every heartbeat, every step, as we climbed the stairs.
He kept pace silently, close enough that I could feel the brush of his sleeve against mine every time I shifted.
We reached the top and paused. The hallway was narrow, dark except for a single lamp at the far end, casting long shadows that stretched toward us.
He looked at me, and I could see the faint crease between his brows soften, a tilt of curiosity, caution, and…
something warmer I hadn’t expected. I followed him toward to my room down the hall, my fingers still tangled with his like a tether.
He nudged the door open just enough for us to slip inside.
The room was dim, a few stray fairy lights from the party downstairs glowing softly through the blinds.
Neither of us spoke as we moved inside, but my breath hitched when our shoulders brushed, the faintest contact setting off sparks I couldn’t name. His hand lifted slightly, hovering near mine, and I felt a tiny jolt of electricity. I did nothing to move it away.
Then he leaned closer. I didn’t think. I just tilted my head up and let him kiss me.
Our lips met. Soft at first, testing, as if both of us were checking that this was real.
Warm. Familiar. Tentative. The taste of mint from his mouth mixed with the faint tang of the hallway air lingering on my lips.
My fingers twitched, almost reaching for him, but I froze, afraid of breaking the fragile certainty of the moment.
He pressed closer, careful, deliberate. My knees weakened slightly.
I wanted to close the distance completely, wanted to erase the space between us, but I let him lead, and it felt like a quiet permission.
The world outside—the party, the lights, the music, the disappointment, everything—dropped away.
I rested my hands lightly on his chest. Could feel the beat of his heart, strong and steady, grounding me. The kiss deepened just slightly, enough to draw a shiver through me, careful, gentle, like it was meant to be remembered, not rushed.
When we finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against mine. We stayed like that, suspended, listening to the soft hum of the party behind the walls, the faint echo of laughter and music, my own heartbeat loud in my ears.
“I’m happy you’re here,” I whispered.
“I’m here,” he said, voice low, steady. “And I’m not going anywhere, Princess.”