LOVE IS A INTERNAL ARGUMENT: An Introverts romance🩰

a quiet moment

The night air is cooler now, the kind that tastes like rain even though the sky is clear. The lake beside the path mirrors every scattered light—silver, gold, soft blue—rippling like it’s breathing with them. She walks beside me, small but steady, hands tucked into the sleeves of her dress coat, curls brushing her cheeks in the breeze.

I should be paying attention to the path, the water, literally anything else.

But all I can focus on is her.

Aliana Valencourt, the sister everyone thinks is quiet, sweet, decorative. The one people underestimate because she isn’t loud.

They have no idea.

I had no idea.

Until she looks up at me after joking about the tabloids calling her a “mysterious useless slut,” expression calm and humor-laced and strong in a way that knocks the air out of my lungs.

She says it like she’s holding the rumors by the throat, not the other way around.

And then she smirks—soft, teasing.

“So, you know… you being the ‘bad boy’ apparently? That makes two of us.”

I laugh—actually laugh—because the irony is ridiculous.

I’ve never felt more understood than in this moment with the quietest woman in the room.

God, she’s magnetic. Not in the way Arabella is, bright and loud.

Aliana pulls you in gently, silently, like gravity. You don’t notice until suddenly you’re already orbiting her.

We slow to a stop near the railing where the lake is closest. She leans forward slightly, resting her hands against the cool metal, the glow of the water lighting her face. She looks… peaceful. Open. A little shy, but not in the way people assume—more like she’s choosing to let me see this softer part of her.

“I’m glad you told me that,” I say quietly. “People love to think they know us.”

“You’re not what they say,” she replies. Then softer, “Not even close.”

I don’t realize I’ve stepped closer until we’re sharing breath.

Her lashes lift.

Her lips part, just barely.

And something tightens low in my chest, pulling me toward her.

She doesn’t step back.

Her gaze flicks to my mouth.

That’s it—my brain short-circuits.

I dip my head, slow enough for her to stop me, close enough to see the faint pink rising on her cheeks. She tilts her chin up—

Her phone vibrates.

A small, sharp sound in the quiet night.

She blinks, startled, breath catching as she pulls back and fumbles for her phone.

My hands slide into my pockets so I don’t do something stupid like reach for her.

She reads the text and rolls her eyes, a soft huff leaving her lips.

“Adriana,” she murmurs, showing me the screen.

Where did you go? Mom wants to know you’re alive.

I laugh under my breath. “Guess we’ve been gone awhile.”

We both glance toward the glow of the gala building—now dimmed, guests trickling out. We hadn’t noticed. Neither of us had looked away from the lake… or each other.

She straightens, curls shifting as she turns toward the exit path.

“I should… probably go,” she says gently.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

She doesn’t argue.

We fall into step again, and the silence is warm, not awkward. Every few seconds, our shoulders brush, and neither of us moves away.

At her car, she stops, hand hovering on the door handle, eyes lifting to meet mine.

“Tonight was… nice,” she says.

Nice.

God, if she had any idea what she almost did to me on that lake path.

“Yeah,” I manage, voice low. “It was.”

She slips into the car, giving me one last small smile—soft, private, almost like a promise.

And even after she drives off, I’m still standing there, watching the glow of her taillights fade into the dark.

Knowing—absolutely knowing—

this won’t be the last time we find each other in the quiet.