Make My Heart Believe a Lie

Chapter 22

✨First Fire.✨

Flora Pov

You’re reckless,” he whispered. Not teasing this time, not playful. Serious. But there was a softness in his eyes, an intimacy that made her stomach flip.

“I—I know,” she stammered, words failing her immediately after.

He smiled faintly, just the corner of his mouth.

“You’re alive in ways you don’t yet understand.”

Before she could respond, before her rational mind could tell her to step back.

The street slowly stitched itself back together.

Voices returned first—laughter drifting from a tavern door, the scrape of shoes against stone, the ordinary rhythm of people who had no idea how close fear had come to touching them. Lanterns flickered. A cart rattled past. Life went on.

Flora stood very still beside Nasir, her pulse still loud in her ears, her fingers numb with the memory of gripping his coat.

For a moment, he didn’t speak.

He looked at the crowd as if he didn’t see them at all.

Something in his face had changed.

Not anger. Not calm. Something far more dangerous.

Before she could ask if they should move, his hand closed around her wrist.

Not rough — but urgent.

“Come with me,” he said, low.

And then he was already pulling her.

She stumbled once, then kept pace, heart leaping as he guided her through a gap between two buildings, away from the lamplight, away from the noise. The alley swallowed them whole, narrow and shadowed and smelling faintly of damp stone.

“N–Nasir—”

He turned suddenly and pressed her back against the wall.

Not hard.

But decisive.

Her breath left her in a quiet gasp as the cold bricks met her spine. His hands came to either side of her head, bracing himself there, caging her in without touching her face.

For a heartbeat, they only stared at each other.

His eyes were dark.

Not calculating.

Not careful.

Alive with something she had never seen in him before — something shaken loose by danger and adrenaline and the sight of her nearly being taken by the dark.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispered.

Flora’s heart hammered so violently she thought it might burst through her chest. She had never been kissed before. Never. Not in fleeting brushes at school, not in the awkward moments she had imagined in secret. And yet here she was—standing on a quiet street in the town that had only just begun to feel like hers, with Nasir’s hand lingering just a breath from hers.

The danger hadn’t gone away. The shadows still whispered, the world still hummed with threats she couldn’t name. And yet, in that instant, none of that mattered.

She trembled.

Not with fear.

With something warm and unsteady and entirely new.

Before she could answer, he leaned in.

He leaned closer, brushing his lips gently against hers.

It was nothing like she expected. It was everything she didn’t know she was missing. Warm. Insistent. Gentle but grounding, like a tether to the world she had never known she needed.

The kiss wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t cautious.

It was hungry and urgent and full of emotion he clearly hadn’t planned to feel.

Her knees nearly gave out. She felt her stomach twist into tight knots and then unravel all at once. The world seemed to tilt, the shadows shrinking, the night breathing around them.

She wanted to pull away. She wanted to resist. Fear still lingered in her, sharp and biting—but it was drowned out by something more dangerous: desire.

His mouth found hers like he was trying to prove something — to himself, to the night, to the danger that had dared to touch her — and for one stunned second, Flora forgot how to breathe.

And then…

Everything else disappeared.

The alley vanished.

The city fell away.

The fear went silent.

She did not panic.

She did not pull away.

She trembled.

Her whole body shook beneath the force of it — the heat of him, the certainty, the way his lips moved against hers with a desperation that made her chest ache. Her hands rose without permission, clutching at his coat, fingers fisting in the fabric as if the world had tilted and he was the only solid thing left. Though she didn’t know if it was to steady herself or to hold on to the moment.

She had imagined her first kiss before.

Shy.

Awkward.

Sweet.

This was none of those things.

This was fire.

Her knees weakened. A small sound escaped her throat, surprised and breathless, and at that Nasir stilled — just for a fraction of a second — as if suddenly terrified he had gone too far.

But she didn’t push him away.

She leaned into him.

That was all the permission he needed.

The kiss softened, slowed, became something deeper and more devastating. His mouth gentled, learning her, coaxing instead of claiming. One of his hands finally left the wall and came to her waist, steadying her when her legs forgot how to work.

Her lips tingled.

Her heart raced.

Her thoughts scattered like frightened birds.

She felt warm and light and impossibly awake, like something inside her had been sleeping her entire life and had just been shaken open.

He hesitated only briefly, giving her space, then kissed her again—this time a little firmer, a little more claiming. And the effect was immediate and undeniable. She felt it deep in her chest, in her limbs, in the tiny part of her that had always wanted to be seen, to be noticed, to be cared for fiercely.

She gasped softly, breaking the kiss, breath shaky. Her face burned hot.

When he finally pulled back, only an inch, their foreheads rested together.

Both of them were breathing too fast.

Her eyes were wide.

His hands were still shaking slightly at her sides.

“I—” she tried, and laughed weakly when no words came.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if bracing himself against what he’d done.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She shook her head immediately. “Don’t be.”

He looked at her then — really looked — and whatever he saw there made his expression soften into something dangerously tender.

“I’ve… I’ve never…” she murmured, trailing off. Words had failed her once more.

Nasir cupped her cheek gently, thumb brushing over the high bone. “I know,” he said softly. “I can see it. You don’t have to say it.”

Something unspooled inside her—a mixture of awe, fear, excitement, and a longing she couldn’t yet name. She realized just how alive she felt in his presence, how dangerous it was to let herself feel this way, and yet how impossible it was to stop.

Her lips still tingled.

Her heart still felt too big for her chest.

And somewhere, deep in the quiet space where fear used to live, something new took root.

Trust.

Later, much later, she would realize something else too.

That kiss hadn’t just been her first.

It had been the moment her heart learned how easily it could be persuaded.

How beautifully a lie could feel.

And how willingly she had believed it.

And how much more she wanted.

"I should take you home," he breathe out.

She nodded unable to speak.

Flora didn’t feel the street beneath her feet anymore.

Everything was sound and sensation—her breath too loud in her ears, the echo of his mouth still warm on hers, her heart misbehaving like it had just learned a new language and didn’t know when to stop speaking it.

She followed Nasir without quite realizing she was doing it.

He didn’t hold her hand. That would have been too much. Instead, he walked close enough that his shoulder occasionally brushed hers, each accidental touch sending a small, humiliating spark straight through her chest. She hated how aware she was of him now—of the way he moved, of the calm certainty in his stride, of how different the night felt simply because he was there.

Her lips tingled. She pressed them together, then immediately regretted it.

Get a grip, she told herself.

But her body didn’t listen.

They turned down a narrower street. The lamps were farther apart here, the light uneven, shadows pooling in corners where her imagination eagerly supplied worst-case scenarios. The rush from the kiss hadn’t faded—it had sharpened everything instead.

“You’re quiet,” Nasir said, glancing at her without slowing.

“I’m… thinking,” she said, which was a lie.

Thinking required coherence. Her mind was a tangle of sensations and panic and something dangerously close to wanting.

“Dangerous habit,” he replied lightly.

She huffed, then surprised herself by saying,

“You kissed me like you knew I wouldn’t run.”

He stopped.

Not abruptly—just enough that she had to stop too. He turned to face her fully this time, studying her in a way that made her chest tighten all over again.

“I kissed you because you were already standing your ground,” he said quietly.

“That’s not someone who runs.”

Her throat felt thick. “I was terrified.”

“Yes,” he said. “And you stayed.”

That landed harder than the kiss had.

Something unspooled inside her—a mixture of awe, fear, excitement, and a longing she couldn’t yet name. She realized just how alive she felt in his presence, how dangerous it was to let herself feel this way, and yet how impossible it was to stop.

The shadows at the edge of the street hadn’t disappeared. The watcher could still be out there. But for one fleeting moment, Flora didn’t care. She had been kissed. She had been touched in a way that claimed her attention and rattled her control. And for the first time in her life, she understood what it meant to let someone see her completely, without walls or fear, and to feel something powerful in return.

She stumbled slightly as they stepped back, awareness of every nerve heightened, body buzzing. Nasir caught her subtly, just a tilt of his arm, grounding her again.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and teasing, though the eyes remained serious.

She nodded, unable to trust her voice. Her pulse thundered. “Yes… I think…”

“Good,” he said, smiling faintly, though there was steel in his jaw. “We need to keep moving. Night isn’t finished with us yet.”

She nodded again, head spinning—not just from the danger, not just from the shadows—but from the first fire she had ever felt in another person. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and wholly impossible to ignore.

They stopped outside her door without quite meaning to.

The hallway was narrow and dim, lit by a single flickering bulb that hummed softly above them. The sounds of the street were distant now, muted behind walls and closed windows. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Flora clutched her bag to her chest, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands.

“This is me,” she said quietly.

Nasir nodded. He did not step away.

The silence stretched—soft, charged, unfamiliar. His hand was still resting at the small of her back, warm and steady, as if he had forgotten to remove it. She felt it through the thin fabric of her sweater, the simple weight of it sending a strange flutter through her chest.

She looked up at him.

He was already watching her.

Not with hunger.

With something slower. Deeper.

Her breath caught.

Before she could think herself out of it, Flora rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was brief—uncertain, almost clumsy.

They both froze.

She pulled back, eyes wide, mortified by her own boldness. “I’m s—”

Nasir didn’t let her finish.

His hands came up gently, framing her face as if she were something fragile. “Flora,” he murmured, her name unfamiliar and soft on his tongue.

Then he kissed her back.

Not rushed.

Not demanding.

His mouth moved against hers with careful intention, as though he were learning her rather than claiming her. When her lips parted on a small breath, he followed, slow and unhurried, deepening the kiss just enough that the world tilted.

Her hands found his coat, gripping it for balance.

His thumb brushed her jaw, then slid to the curve of her neck. Another hand settled at her waist, steadying her as if he could feel the way her knees had gone weak.

Flora forgot the hallway.

Forgot the rules that had shaped her.

Forgot fear.

All she knew was the warmth of his mouth, the quiet sound of their breathing, the strange, aching sweetness blooming in her chest where nothing had ever been allowed to grow before.

When they finally parted, it was only because they had to breathe.

They stayed close, foreheads touching.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Nasir smiled—soft, stunned, a little undone.

“I should go,” he said, though he didn’t move.

Flora nodded, heart racing.

“Yes,” she whispered.

But neither of them stepped away right away.

Flora closed the door softly behind her, turning the lock with hands that were still trembling after a few minutes.

The sound echoed too loudly in the small room.

For a moment she only stood there, back against the wood, breathing as if she had just run a long distance. Her lips still tingled. Her skin felt warm everywhere his hands had rested, as if the memory of them had not yet decided to leave.

She lifted her fingers to her mouth.

Just to be sure it had been real.

It had.

The realization hit her all at once.

Her knees weakened, and she slid down until she was sitting on the floor, skirts pooled around her ankles, bag forgotten beside her.

Her heart beat too fast, too loud, as if it might betray her to the whole building.

She pressed her palm to her chest.

It would not slow.

This had undone something inside her.

She closed her eyes and saw him again: the way he had looked at her in the hallway, surprised and gentle all at once. The way he had said her name. The warmth of his mouth, the patience in his hands, the quiet certainty with which he had held her as if she were allowed to take up space.

Flora laughed once, breathless and disbelieving.

“What was I thinking?” she whispered to the empty room.

She rose unsteadily and crossed to the small mirror above her dresser. The girl who stared back at her did not look the same. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips slightly swollen. Her eyes bright in a way she did not recognize.

She touched her mouth again, slowly this time.

No one had ever made her feel like that.

Seen.

Chosen.

Safe.

The thought startled her.

Safe.

The word felt dangerous.

She moved to the bed and sat, smoothing the blanket over and over with restless hands.

Her body still hummed with awareness, every nerve awake, as if something inside her had been stirred after a very long sleep.

And beneath the excitement, there was fear.

Because she did not understand what this meant.

Because tenderness had never come without cost in her life.

Because part of her was already waiting for the moment it would be taken away.

Flora lay back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the building settle around her.

She told herself it had been nothing.

Just a kiss.

Just a moment.

But her heart did not believe her.

Somewhere, very quietly, a new thought took shape—small and fragile and reckless:

What if this is what it’s supposed to feel like?

The idea frightened her more than any rule her father had ever made.

And yet…

She smiled at nothing, letting the night carry her back through each stolen moment.