The morning sun filtered weakly through the curtains, but it did nothing to ease the heaviness in my chest. I hadn’t slept. Not really. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him—his breath against my lips, the weight of his gaze, the smirk that had shattered me with two words: Not yet.
It had been nothing. Just an almost. But the memory of it burned hotter than any touch.
I told myself it was fine. That I was still in control. That the dizzy ache in my chest would fade if I ignored it long enough.
But deep down, I knew Ivy was right: the lines were blurring.
⸻
My phone buzzed.
Andrew.
I stared at the screen until the ringing stopped, then started again almost immediately. He wouldn’t let me ignore him.
With a sigh, I answered.
“You’ve been quiet,” Andrew’s voice slid through the lin
