Waiting

11.

Summer POV

Once we were out of the waiting room and the automatic doors slid closed behind us, I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

The hospital lobby felt quieter. Cooler. Safer.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket.

“Hold on,” I said softly. “I should probably tell my mom I’m taking a break for a moment—so she doesn’t think I got kidnapped.”

Arie huffed out a small laugh, but I noticed something else in his expression.

Relief.

Like he was still steadying himself.

I typed quickly:

Walking Arie out. Taking a quick breather. Be back soon. Love you.

Sent.

I looked up at him and grinned. “Okay. Officially not kidnapped.”

His smile was slower this time. Softer.

“Good,” he said. “I was worried I’d have to explain myself.”

We stepped outside, and the air instantly changed—salt and evening wind. The sky was shifting too, soft oranges bleeding into pink and lavender.

Almost sunset.

“Oh!” I turned toward him suddenly. “Wait.”

He blinked. “Wait what?”

I bit my lip, excitement bubbling up. “I told you I’d be your official tour guide, right?”

He nodded cautiously.

“Well… there’s something you absolutely have to see if you’re going to call this place home.”

His eyes warmed. “And what’s that?”

I hesitated. I wanted it to be a surprise.

“I’m not telling you,” I said, grabbing his hand impulsively. “Just trust me.”

The second my fingers wrapped around his, something settled. Not tense. Not territorial.

Warm.

Arie glanced down at our hands, and for just a flicker, something complicated crossed his face.

Not hesitation exactly.

Calculation.

Like he was weighing the moment—assessing it—before allowing himself to feel it.

His thumb brushed lightly over my knuckles.

Then he looked up at me and smiled. Soft. Real.

And he squeezed back—just enough pressure to say, I’m here.

After the way Damien’s hand had felt at my back—firm, deliberate, like placement—this felt different.

Arie wasn’t steering. He wasn’t directing.

He was meeting me.

“Lead the way,” he said.

He didn’t ask how long. Didn’t check the time. Didn’t hesitate.

And I didn’t know it for sure, but in that moment, I felt like he was choosing me—over whatever weight lived behind those storm-colored eyes.

We walked toward the beach, the sky deepening as we went. The wind picked up, brushing my hair back, the air tasting like salt and possibility.

“I know this sounds dramatic,” I said, suddenly shy in a way I wasn’t used to, “but this is my favorite thing in the entire world.”

He looked at me like I’d just handed him something fragile.

“Show me.”

When we reached the sand, the sun was touching the horizon.

Gold melted into crimson.

Crimson into violet.

Violet into deepening blue.

The ocean reflected it all like it was swallowing fire.

I stepped forward and inhaled deeply, closing my eyes for a second.

“This,” I said softly. “This is why I could never leave.”

The waves rolled in and out like a steady heartbeat, and for a moment the whole world felt suspended—like everything was holding its breath.

I turned to look at him—and froze.

The sun was behind him now, outlining him in molten gold. For just a second—just a second—he looked unreal. Not sparkling. Not shining.

Illuminated.

Like he belonged to the evening.

His eyes were fixed on the horizon, then slowly shifted to me.

The storm that had been in him earlier wasn’t there anymore. It had been replaced with something reverent.

“You brought me here,” he said softly.

Not like a statement.

Like a realization.

I laughed nervously, brushing sand off my hands. “Well yeah. You said you needed a home. I hope this could convince you that maybe”—I lifted my arms and spun once in the fading light—“this can be your home.”

The word lingered between us.

When I stopped, I looked straight into his eyes.

They weren’t just blue.

They glowed—not in a way that scared me, but in a way that pulled me in. Like the last streak of daylight clinging to the horizon before night finally wins.

For a split second they widened, like I’d said something too close to a truth he wasn’t ready to touch.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You have no idea what that means.”

And just like that—the hospital, the grief, Damien’s strange tension—it all fell away.

Right now, it was just us. The sand cool beneath our feet. The sky dissolving into indigo. The ocean breathing beside us.

We sat down, side by side, close enough that our shoulders nearly touched.

I didn’t feel nervous anymore.

I felt safe.

Which was insane. I barely knew him.

And yet… Arie didn’t feel new.

He felt like remembering.

I glanced over at him.

He was already looking at me, and the expression on his face made my heart stutter.

It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t curiosity.

It was awe.

“You’re looking at me like I said something crazy,” I teased softly.

He shook his head.

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m looking at you like you don’t understand how rare you are.”

Rare.

My heart stumbled.

No one had ever said that to me like that—without it sounding like flirting.

He sounded stunned.

Like he’d discovered something he didn’t know he was allowed to find.

“Can I tell you something weird?” I asked.

He smiled faintly. “Please.”

I turned back toward the ocean as the last sliver of sun slipped beneath the water.

“I feel like… we were always supposed to meet. Like this. Right now. And with everything happening… I’m really grateful I met you today.”

The sky darkened fully. The first stars began to appear.

I expected him to laugh.

He didn’t.

He went still.

“Honestly,” he said slowly, “I feel the same way.”

His voice was different now—exposed.

“I’ve always felt like something in me was unsettled,” he continued. “Like there was this constant noise I couldn’t escape.”

He swallowed.

“And today… it isn’t screaming anymore.”

My chest tightened.

“Because of me?” I asked softly.

He turned his head. Those eyes—brighter now against the dark—held mine with an intensity that stole the air from my lungs.

“Yes,” he said simply. “Because of you.”

And under a sky filling with stars, I realized something that thrilled me and scared me at the same time.

This wasn’t just attraction.

Something was unfolding—and I was already too far in to pretend I didn’t feel it.

Before the moment tipped into something neither of us were ready to name, Arie shifted. He pulled out his phone, the soft glow lighting his face.

It wasn’t dismissive. It was careful.

He checked the time, then looked back at me—grounded.

“It’s getting late,” he said gently. “I don’t want you getting in trouble. After everything today… it might be a good idea to head back.”

There was no authority in it.

Just concern.

I exhaled and nodded. “I kind of stormed out.”

He didn’t judge. He just waited.

I pulled my phone out and texted:

Are you guys still at the hospital?

The reply came almost instantly:

We’re home, baby. We’ll go back first thing in the morning so you can say goodbye one last time to Papa. Love you.

My throat tightened.

“One last time” still hurt.

But it didn’t crush me the way it had earlier.

“They’re home,” I said quietly. “We’re going back in the morning.”

He studied my face—not searching for weakness, but making sure I was okay.

“Do you want me to take you back to the hospital,” he asked, “or home?”

The way he asked—like both were equally valid—made something soften in my chest.

“I should go home,” I admitted. “I need to reset.”

He nodded once. “I’d be honored to get you home safe.”

Honored.

That word again.

He wasn’t trying to impress me.

He was trying to take care of me—without claiming me.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, and meant it.

We stood, brushed sand off our clothes, and started back toward the street. Without thinking, he shifted slightly closer to the road, placing himself between me and traffic.

He didn’t comment on it.

He just did it.

And I noticed.

When we reached his car, he opened the passenger door for me—natural, unshowy. I slid in, and something quietly terrifying settled in my chest.

The grief was still there. The frustration with Damien was still there.

But beneath it?

A warmth that hadn’t existed this morning.

Arie got in, shut the door, and glanced at me before turning the key.

“Seatbelt.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and clicked it.

He watched long enough to make sure it was secure, then nodded and started driving.

Streetlights streaked across the windshield in soft bands of gold, the faint scent of saltwater still clinging to us.

We fell back into conversation easily, like we hadn’t just shared something intense on the beach.

“So,” he said casually, “what’s your favorite part about the evening light?”

I smiled immediately. “Everything.”

I didn’t even try to contain myself.

“It’s like the world exhales at the end of the day,” I said. “The colors change and blend—like it’s resetting. It reminds you that endings can be beautiful too.”

He didn’t interrupt. He just listened.

“And the stars…” My voice softened. “My Papa used to tell me they shine the brightest because they’re missing the ones they loved—like they’re still watching.”

I stared out at the darkening sky.

“And the moon…” I breathed, a small smile curving. “Sometimes it feels like it calls to me. Not loud. Just… a pull. Like a whisper in my bones.”

Silence followed, warm and steady.

Then, quietly, he said, “I’m in awe of you.”

I blinked. “What?”

He kept his eyes on the road. “Everything you say—the way you see things… it’s layered. Intentional. You don’t just look at the sky. You feel it.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I looked down at my hands, suddenly shy.

“Okay, stop,” I muttered. “You’re making me blush.”

A corner of his mouth lifted.

“Good,” he said. “I like knowing I have that kind of effect on you.”

My heart started racing.

I opened my mouth to say something—something real—

And my phone rang.

I jumped, glanced at the screen.

Dad.

“Oh shoot,” I whispered, answering quickly. “Hi, Daddy.”

Arie’s posture shifted instantly—more alert, more respectful. He lowered the music without me asking.

“Where are you, mija?” my dad asked gently.

“I’m on my way home now,” I said. “I’m sorry. I just… needed a minute. I went to the beach to watch the sunset.”

There was a pause, then a soft chuckle.

“I should’ve known,” he said warmly. “Of course you found a quiet spot to stare at the sky. It’s your favorite thing.”

“I’m sorry I left like that,” I added.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll go back first thing in the morning so you can say goodbye to Papa one last time.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’m almost home.”

“We’ll see you soon, princesa.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

I hung up slowly.

For a second, I stared at my phone.

“I have to get home,” I said quietly.

Arie nodded—and then, out of nowhere, he started laughing. Genuine laughter.

“What?” I asked, smiling despite myself.

He shook his head. “I just realized something.”

“What?”

“We’ve been driving for a while.”

“…Yeah?”

“I never asked where you live.”

There was a beat—then I burst out laughing too.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “You didn’t!”

“And I didn’t even notice,” he said, amused.

“Well, I was distracted,” he added with a small, knowing smile.

“By what?” I teased.

He glanced at me.

“By you.”

My stomach flipped.

“Okay,” I said, trying to compose myself. “Left at the next light.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied playfully.

And as we continued down the road—still smiling, still glowing from the absurdity of it—I realized something beautiful.

We weren’t forcing anything.

We weren’t performing.

We were just… here.

Together.

Arie pulled into my driveway and cut the engine.

The porch light was on. Of course it was. My daddy always left it on when he was waiting for me.

I reached for the door handle when I felt a gentle hand on my arm.

“Wait,” Arie said.

I paused and looked back at him—but before I could ask what he meant, he stepped out of the car and walked around the front.

Then he opened my door.

Like an actual gentleman.

He held his hand out like it was the most natural thing in the world—and that’s when something mischievous took over me. I slipped my hand into his and attempted the most ridiculous British accent imaginable.

“Why, thank you, kind sir. Such refined gentlemanly behavior.”

His lips twitched instantly. Without missing a beat, he dipped his head and answered, “Only for the beautiful lady. It is my honor to grace her with my gentlemanly ways.”

I gasped dramatically, and we both broke into laughter—real laughter. The kind that spills out because the day has been too heavy and suddenly something feels light.

And then—

A throat cleared.

We froze and turned.

My daddy stood on the porch, one hand on the railing, eyebrows slightly raised. Not furious. Not amused.

Just observing.

For a second, Arie and I looked at him.

Then we looked at each other, and started laughing again.

“What exactly are we laughing about?” Daddy asked as he walked down the driveway toward us.

His eyes went straight to Arie in a slow, deliberate scan—protective and measuring.

It made Arie straighten slightly—not stiff, not defensive.

Just respectful.

Daddy extended his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Arie took it firmly. “Arie, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Esteban,” Dad replied. His grip tightened—just slightly.

“Papi,” I jumped in quickly, “this is Arie. He just moved here. He’s my friend. Arie, this is my dad—Esteban.”

I glanced at Arie and grinned before I continued. “Daddy, I’m his official new best friend and his unofficial tour guide.”

Dad’s gaze flickered to me, then back to Arie.

“Unofficial tour guide?” he repeated. “So you’ve had the unicorn guts?”

Arie tensed for half a second, then recovered. “Um, no, sir. Not yet. Although I’m working my way up to that—with morbid curiosity, I might add.”

That pulled the corner of Dad’s mouth upward.

“No one other than my princesa enjoys unicorn guts,” he said dryly. Then his expression leveled again. “But if my daughter likes you, I’ll assume you’re a good guy.”

A beat.

“But if you ever hurt her—”

“Dad,” I groaned, mortified.

He lifted a hand to stop my complaint, eyes still on Arie.

“—you won’t get very far from me.”

The air shifted—no drama, no explosion.

Just truth.

Arie didn’t flinch. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t try to charm his way out of it.

“I won’t,” he said simply.

Dad studied him for one long second more, then gave a single nod.

“Thank you for bringing her home safely.”

Not quite approval—but recognition. And that meant something.

Dad stepped closer, resting his hand lightly at my back.

“Time to get inside.”

I turned back to Arie, suddenly not ready for the night to be over. Before I could overthink it, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He caught me easily this time—steady hands at my waist—but I felt the brief tension in him.

I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and leaned in close enough that only he could hear.

“Text later?”

His breath brushed warm against my ear. “Definitely,” he murmured. “But I think your dad might want to kill me right now.”

A laugh bubbled up in my chest.

Right.

I had momentarily forgotten that my father definitely did not want to witness any PDA between his daughter and a boy.

Behind me, Dad cleared his throat again.

I sighed and slowly let go.

Dad didn’t say anything. He just stepped closer and guided me toward the porch with that quiet, protective hand at my back.

I took one last glance at Arie. He was still standing there in the driveway, watching. He raised his hand in a small wave, and I waved back.

There was something in his eyes that felt like a promise.

When I stepped inside and the door closed behind me, the realization settled quietly in my chest.

Was this how it begins?

When friendship starts to feel like something more?