Too fast
681 Words
Atticus was still recovering from the hug when Aliana drifted along the bookshelf, eyes skimming titles like she’d stumbled into heaven.
“What’s your favorite?” she asked, trailing her fingers along the spines. “If I had to pick one book you think represents you… which would it be?”
He moved next to her, hands in his pockets.
“Represents me? That’s too philosophical for ten p.m.”
“Atticus.”
He sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
He reached up and pulled down a worn copy of a paranormal mystery.
“It’s about a guy who has to pretend he doesn’t know as much as he does. Because the world is more comfortable when he plays stupid.”
Aliana’s expression softened.
“You hide your intelligence?”
He shrugged, eyes flicking down the row of books.
“People think I’m the hot-headed Everheart. The impulsive one. The… troublemaker.”
A bitter smile. “It’s easier to lean into it than correct them.”
“That must be exhausting,” she whispered.
He looked at her—really looked at her.
“It is.”
Aliana’s gaze drifted to another shelf and she pulled out a ballet-themed novel, the cover soft and creased from use.
“This,” she said, holding it to her chest, “was my favorite growing up. When I danced, it made me feel like I could be anyone. Light. Free.”
He smiled gently. “Does it still make you feel that way?”
She hesitated. “Sometimes. But I’m not that girl anymore.”
“You could be. If you wanted.”
Her breath caught.
Because he said it with such certainty she almost believed him.
When she looked up, he was closer than she realized.
Close enough to see the gold flecks in his irises.
Close enough that her lips parted without meaning to.
Atticus inhaled slowly.
“Aliana…”
Her heart thudded in her chest.
He lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek—
His touch featherlight, tentative, reverent.
“If you pull away,” Atticus murmured, “I’ll stop.”
But she didn’t move.
She felt his breath, warm against her mouth.
And then—
Slowly, carefully—
He kissed her.
Soft at first.
Like he was afraid she’d break.
Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, drawing her in just a little more—
The kiss deepening, warming, unfolding.
It wasn’t wild or rushed.
It was gentle.
And dangerously honest.
Which is precisely why she panicked.
Her breath hitched, and she broke away suddenly, stepping back like she touched fire.
Atticus froze. “Aliana?”
“I—” she said, voice unsteady. “I can’t— I mean, I shouldn’t—”
She hugged the ballet book to her chest like a shield.
Atticus stepped back too, giving her space immediately.
His expression softened, not wounded—just concerned.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to explain.”
But she shook her head.
“No, I… I like you, Atticus. I do. But I don’t open up this fast. I don’t… do this fast.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It scares me.”
A slow, understanding breath left him.
“I get scared too,” he admitted. “More than people think.”
She looked up, startled.
He offered a small, crooked smile.
“We can go slow,” he said gently. “Any pace you want. Even if it’s glacial and painfully torturous.”
That pulled a soft laugh out of her.
He grinned, relieved.
“But,” he added with mock seriousness, “just so we’re clear, that kiss? It was definitely chapter-ending worthy.”
Her cheeks warmed. “You’re too much.”
“And yet you kissed me anyway.”
"she looks around I don't recall"
She swatted weakly at his arm.
He caught her hand—just for a moment—then let go.
No pressure.
No expectation.
Just warmth.
Just Atticus.
- Writer
