Three days

Chapter 2 - ALEX

I shouldn’t have kissed her back.

That was the first clear, brutal thought that cut through everything the second my lips left hers. My hand was still locked around the belt loop of her jeans, holding her against me like some desperate i***t who hadn’t learned a single lesson. Her breath was warm against my mouth. Mint and something sweeter. My own breathing was a wreck.

This was a terrible idea.

I’d said it out loud and I’d meant every word. But my body hadn’t gotten the message. My fingers were still gripping denim. My chest was still pressed to hers. And the only thing I wanted was to close the distance again and take more.

Kate looked at me with those wide, curious eyes, lips slightly parted, waiting. There was no fear in her expression. Just a quiet boldness that made something ugly and hungry twist low in my stomach.

I forced myself to step back.

The sudden space between us felt colder than it should have.

“I… I need some air,” I muttered. My voice sounded rough, almost angry.

She didn’t stop me. She just watched as I turned and walked out of the bedroom, past the noise of the party, past Maya’s laughter somewhere down the hall, and out into the front garden.

The night air hit me hard. I dragged both hands through my hair and stared at the quiet street, trying to slow the violent pounding in my chest.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I’d only been single for three weeks. Three short, messy, sleepless weeks after a relationship that had left me hollowed out. I’d told myself I was done. Finished. No more opening up. No more letting someone get close enough to tear pieces out of me when they eventually left. I had a simple plan: keep my head down, finish the year, work my shifts at the bar, stay the hell away from anything that felt like feeling.

And then this girl sat down next to me with her quiet smile and sharp little jokes and those eyes that looked straight through every wall I’d spent months building.

Kate.

I barely knew her, and already I could still feel the exact shape of her mouth against mine. The way her body had softened against me for half a second. The way she’d tasted.

I stayed outside longer than I should have. Long enough for the music inside to blur into a dull throb. Long enough to convince myself that if I went back in, I would keep my distance. Be polite. Friendly. Nothing more. I would not look at her mouth. I would not remember how her lower lip had felt brushing against mine.

When I finally walked back into the house, the bedroom was empty. Kate was gone. Marco was in the kitchen arguing with someone about music, and Maya was dancing in the middle of the living room like the world belonged to her.

I didn’t look for Kate again that night.

I told myself it was better this way.
Safer.
Smarter.

I almost believed it.

The next few days were supposed to be normal.

I went to classes. I worked my evening shifts at the bar, moving behind the counter on autopilot, pouring drinks, wiping down sticky surfaces, trying to lose myself in the noise and the low thump of bass. I came home late, showered until my skin was raw, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling, still feeling the ghost of her mouth on mine.

It didn’t work.

She kept slipping into my thoughts at the worst possible moments. While I was shaking a cocktail. While I was walking home in the dark. While I was trying to sleep. I’d close my eyes and see the way she’d looked at me right before she kissed me — soft, certain, unafraid.

I hated how much I wanted to see that look again.

On Thursday, Marco caught up with me after class.

“You’re quiet,” he said, falling into step beside me. “Quieter than usual, which is saying something.”

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the pavement. “Just tired.”

He gave me a look that said he didn’t buy it for a second. “This about the girl from the party? Kate?”

I hated how easily her name settled in the air between us. How natural it already felt.

“No.”

“Liar.” He grinned. “Maya’s already planning the wedding, by the way. You’re doomed.”

“There is no wedding. There is no anything.” My voice came out harder than I intended. “I told you — I’m not doing that right now. I can’t.”

Marco raised both hands in surrender, but the smirk stayed. “Whatever you say, man. Just don’t be surprised if she shows up again. Maya’s relentless when she gets an idea in her head.”

I already knew that.
And the thought of seeing Kate again made my stomach tighten with equal parts dread and something I refused to name.

I found out exactly how relentless on Saturday afternoon.

I was sitting on the low wall outside the building where I sometimes met Marco, waiting for him, when I heard footsteps. I looked up and there she was.

Kate.

White T-shirt. Jeans. Hair pulled back loosely. A canvas bag over one shoulder. Her olive skin glowed in the afternoon light. She looked softer in daylight somehow. And somehow more dangerous because of it.

My pulse kicked hard against my throat.

“Hi,” she said, stopping a few feet away.

My mouth went dry. “Hi.”

She shifted her weight, glancing down the street like she was already second-guessing herself. “Maya said you’d be here. I… hope that’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay.


It was the furthest thing from okay.
Every careful wall I’d rebuilt over the last five days was already cracking just from the sound of her voice.

“It’s fine,” I lied.

She sat down on the wall beside me, close enough that I could smell the light citrus scent of her shampoo. Close enough that my hands itched to reach for her.

For a long moment neither of us spoke.

Then she said quietly, “I keep thinking about the other night.”

I closed my eyes. “Kate—”

“I know what you said. That it was a bad idea. That you’re not ready.” She turned her head to look at me. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

The honesty in her voice hit harder than I was prepared for.

I stared at the pavement, jaw locked so tight it ached. “You should stop.”

“I don’t want to.”

The words were soft, but they landed like a challenge. Like a hand reaching into the hollow place in my chest and pressing.

I finally looked at her. Really looked. The afternoon light caught the warm tone of her olive skin, the curve of her cheek, the way her lips parted slightly when she was nervous. She was watching me like she was trying to read every thought I was fighting not to say out loud.

“I’m not good at this,” I said, and my voice came out rougher than I wanted. “At letting people in. The last time I did, it wrecked me. I don’t have anything left to give right now. I’m still… empty in places I don’t know how to fill.”

“I’m not asking you to give me everything,” she answered gently. “I’m just asking you not to run.”

Something in my chest cracked open at that. Something I had been desperately trying to keep sealed.

I shouldn’t have reached for her hand.
I definitely shouldn’t have laced my fingers through hers.

But I did.

Her skin was warm. Soft. She squeezed once, gently, and didn’t let go. The simple contact sent a current straight up my arm and into the place behind my ribs that still felt bruised.

We sat there in silence for a long time, hands linked, the world moving around us like it had no idea anything had shifted.

Eventually she spoke again, voice quieter.

“I don’t need promises, Alex. I just… I like talking to you. I like the way it feels when you look at me. That’s all.”

I turned my head and met her eyes.

The same pull that had dragged me under at the party was back — stronger now. Hungrier. And underneath it, the old fear whispered the same warning it always did: You’re going to get hurt again. You’re going to let her in and she’s going to leave and you’ll be right back where you started.

I lifted our joined hands and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the back of her knuckles anyway. Her breath caught. The soft sound went straight through me like a blade.

“This is still a bad idea,” I murmured against her skin, more to myself than to her.

She smiled, small and a little sad. “I know.”

I leaned in anyway.

This time the kiss was slower. Deeper. Less rushed than the first one in the dim bedroom, but somehow more dangerous because of it. Her free hand came up to rest against my jaw, fingers light, and I felt myself falling into her like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet.

When we finally broke apart, our foreheads stayed touching. I kept my eyes closed, breathing her in, trying to memorise the moment even as every instinct screamed at me to pull away and stay gone.

“I’m going to regret this,” I whispered, the words scraped raw from my throat.

Kate’s thumb brushed gently across my cheek.

“Maybe,” she said softly. “Or maybe you won’t.”

I didn’t have an answer for that.

All I knew was that I was already in deeper than I could afford to be…
and the worst part was that, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to climb back out.

Even if it destroyed me.