MACEY
Damien’s car came to a smooth stop in front of my apartment building, the engine’s quiet hum fading into the night. I could still feel the pulse of everything that had happened between us—the warmth of his touch, the timbre of his voice, the way he had said we were serious now. It hadn’t fully sunk in, but my chest was tight in the best way, like it might burst with the kind of energy that makes your heart race for no other reason than pure happiness.
He jogged around the car to open my door, and I swear I melted a little the second I saw him. That was Damien. He didn’t have to try. He didn’t need to make an effort to pull me in. He just was confident, protective, and always in control, whether he meant to be or not. I stepped out slowly, letting the night air brush against my skin
