After my confession, for a heartbeat, there’s nothing but silence. The kind that stretches too long, too heavy, and makes my stomach twist.
Luke just… stands there, watching me while his expression unreadable.
I feel the panic creeping in. I said too much.
“I—” I start, desperate to take it back, to smooth over the mess I just made. “Forget it. I didn’t mean—”
But before I can finish, he moves. Fast.
One second, I’m spiraling. The next, his hand is cupping my face, tilting it up until I’m drowning in his gaze—dark, intense, and way too calm for someone who just heard me lose my mind.
“Say it again,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing softly against my jaw.
I swallow hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. “What?”
“You like me,” he says, like he needs to hear it one more time just to
