Chapter 2: Closer Than Close
1058 Words
AYLA
I knew he was staring before I even opened my eyes.
“Take a picture,” I murmured, voice still thick with sleep, “it’ll last longer.”
James chuckled from where he leaned against the wall, arms folded, wearing his usual smug grin. “Already have like, five of you sleeping. Not your best angle.”
I groaned, burying my face into the pillow. “You’re obsessed with me.”
“Unfortunately.”
He tossed a hoodie at me, and I sat up in his bed, still wearing my tank top and shorts from the night before. The oversized hoodie swallowed me whole—his scent wrapping around me like it always did: cedar, citrus, and something else that felt like comfort.
We’d slept in the same bed more times than I could count. It was never weird. Not once.
That was the rule.
James and I didn’t cross lines. No flirting. No confusion. No catching feelings.
Because once you crossed that line, there was no going back. And I’d rather keep James in my life forever than lose him to something messy.
Still…
There were moments—like right now—when I wondered if maybe the lines were already blurring.
He was standing there, shirtless, hair a messy halo of curls, muscles taut and defined without trying too hard. His skin was golden, sun-warmed, and those grey eyes had this way of making you feel like he could read every single thing you were trying not to say.
James was beautiful in a way that was unfair.
Maybe that’s why I decided to keep him as a friend. He was too easy to fall for—and I didn’t want to be one of those girls who ruined a friendship over a crush.
So I smiled, stretched, and said, “What’s for breakfast, roomie?”
JAMES
She had no idea what she looked like right now.
Hair a bit messy. Wearing my hoodie. Sitting on my bed like she belonged there—which she kind of did.
I didn’t even try to look away.
“French toast. If you’re nice to me,” I said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it onto the floor as she got up.
“I’m always nice to you,” she replied, walking barefoot past me, brushing my arm lightly. I stood still for a second longer than I should have, like her touch short-circuited something in my brain.
I hated how easily she affected me.
I’d been in love with Ayla for almost two years. She didn’t know. And I never planned to tell her.
Because we had a rule.
And because she deserved someone who could love her out loud.
Not someone who watched her fall asleep beside him, memorized the way her lashes curled or how she laughed when she was too tired. Not someone who stayed silent because he was afraid of losing her.
So instead, I did what I always did—I smiled like it was all okay and followed her to the kitchen.
AYLA
Campus was buzzing by the time we got to school. Everyone pretending they weren’t as tired as they were, clutching iced coffees and half-open laptops. James parked the car in our usual spot and tossed me the key to lock it.
As we walked across the quad, I felt it again.
The stares.
It happened often—people watching us. Whispering. Wondering why we weren’t a couple. I heard it in passing sometimes.
“They’re so cute together.”
“They must be hooking up.”
“He’s so into her.”
They weren’t wrong. But they weren’t exactly right either.
James and I had boundaries.
Like last weekend—after a party, I’d fallen asleep in his bed. When I woke up, he was on the couch downstairs, even though there was more than enough room beside me.
He never crossed lines.
And sometimes I hated that.
JAMES
“You’ve got a class in five,” I reminded her as she opened her locker, already pulling out her notes.
“Ugh. Right.” She leaned back against the locker next to mine. “Let’s skip and get bagels?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you really trying to corrupt me?”
“Please. You’re barely innocent.”
She had this way of talking—sarcastic but sweet. Teasing, but never mean. I watched her tug her hoodie sleeve over her hand, her lips slightly pouting as she tried to convince me.
This girl was going to ruin me.
I adjusted my backpack and said, “Let’s go. Professor Klein is already suspicious of me anyway.”
She grinned like I’d just handed her a medal.
AYLA
We sat on the rooftop behind the café, a hidden gem only we knew. It wasn’t exactly allowed, but we never got caught. The sun was warm. The city buzzed beneath us.
“You ever think about the future?” I asked, biting into my bagel. “Like… where we’ll be five years from now?”
James tilted his head. “You mean like jobs? Or life?”
“Life.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I just want peace. Something calm. A home that doesn’t feel temporary. Someone to come back to.”
My chest tightened.
That was James. Deep down, he didn’t want fame or chaos. He wanted something real. Something soft.
He looked at me, and for a moment, it felt like he was about to say something else—something more.
But then he looked away and said, “You?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe I just want someone who sees me. Really sees me. And stays.”
I wasn’t sure if I was talking about a future guy… or him.
JAMES
She didn’t know I saw her. Always.
I saw the way she clutched her pen when she was nervous. The way she fiddled with her necklace when she was trying to keep a secret. The way her whole body relaxed when she was around me, like I was her safe place.
She was mine, too.
But I couldn’t say that.
So I nudged her with my shoulder and said, “You’ll find that person, Ayla. No doubt.”
She smiled. But it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
- Writer
