keira leigh

The bell had barely rung when the door to your history classroom swung open with that familiar dramatic flair only you seemed to pull off without trying. You stepped inside, clipboard in hand, wearing your usual theater club president energy like it was designer. Your hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few strands falling loose around your face, and you had that bright, unstoppable smile that made half the room sit up straighter.

“Hi everyone! Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Harlan,” you said sweetly, flashing the tired teacher your best polite grin. He just waved you on with a sigh—he’d learned long ago there was no stopping you once you were on a mission.

You cleared your throat, bouncing a little on your toes. “So! As most of you know, I’m president of the drama club, and we’re doing Heathers: The Musical for the big end-of-year show. Auditions are this Friday after school in the auditorium. All roles are open—Veronica, JD, the Heathers, even the supporting cast. No experience needed, just responsibility and commitment. Sign-up sheet is on the door if you’re interested!”

You kept talking, explaining the rehearsal schedule and how fun it was going to be, but Braeden wasn’t hearing a single word about callbacks or tech week.

He was too busy staring.

From his seat in the back row, elbow propped on the desk, chin resting on his hand, Braeden’s eyes were glued to you like you were the only person in the entire universe. His heart was doing that stupid fluttery thing again—the one that started the moment you walked in and refused to stop. God, you were so cute when you got excited about theater stuff. The way your hands moved while you talked, the little bounce in your step, how your eyes lit up when you mentioned the big finale number.

“She’s perfect,” he thought for the hundredth time that week.

Under the desk, his notebook was open to a fresh page. Instead of taking notes on the Industrial Revolution like he was supposed to, Braeden was absentmindedly doodling little hearts around your name in bubbly handwriting. Y/N ❤️ inside one heart. Braeden + Y/N inside another. A tiny stick figure of him holding hands with a stick figure of you. He didn’t even realize he was smiling like an idiot.

Cole, sitting right next to him, noticed immediately. He leaned over and whispered, “Dude. You’re doing it again.”

Braeden blinked, snapping out of his trance for half a second. “Doing what?”

Dylan, on Braeden’s other side, smirked without looking up from his own notebook. “Drawing hearts and staring at Y/N like she hung the moon. Subtle, man. Real subtle.”

Braeden’s cheeks went bright red. He quickly tried to cover the doodles with his arm, but it was too late. Cole had already seen the Mrs. Lemasters? scribbled in the corner.

“Shut up,” Braeden muttered, face burning. “She’s just… really passionate, okay? It’s cute.”

“You’ve had the biggest crush on her since freshman year,” Dylan teased quietly. “Just talk to her, bro.”

“I can’t! She’s… her. And I’m me,” Braeden whispered back, eyes drifting to you again as you laughed at something one of the students asked. His pencil unconsciously drew another heart. “What if she thinks I’m weird?”

Cole rolled his eyes. “You’re already weird. Might as well be weird with her in the musical.”

You finished your announcement with a cheerful, “Hope to see some of you there! Have a good rest of class!” and gave the room one last bright wave before heading out.

Braeden watched you leave, chin back in his hand, completely gone.

Cole nudged him hard. “Okay. New plan. We’re signing you up for auditions.”

Braeden’s head snapped toward them. “Wait—what?” he hissed, voice cracking in that embarrassing way it still did sometimes when he got nervous. “What the hell do you mean you’re signing me up for the audition?!”

Cole leaned back in his chair with a smug little grin, arms crossed. “Exactly what I said. We’re putting your name down for JD. Today. Before you chicken out.”

Dylan nodded, tapping his pencil against his notebook like he was already writing the master plan. “C’mon, man. Even if you only get cast as Tree Number Three, it’s worth it. But let’s be real you’re gonna go for JD. She’s obviously gonna be Veronica. It’s perfect.”

Braeden felt his face heat up again. He glanced at the door you’d just walked out of, heart still doing laps in his chest. “You guys are insane. I can’t just… audition. In front of her. What if I mess up?”

Cole snorted. “Bro. You’re literally the vocalist of our band. You can sing. Like, actually sing. Dead Girl Walking? You’d kill that.”

Braeden buried his face in his hands for a second, groaning. “That’s the problem! Being JD means I’d have to do all those intense scenes with her. Including… you know… the whole Dead Girl Walking thing. In front of the entire cast. And probably the whole school eventually.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And the downside, bro?”

“Yeah,” Cole added, barely holding in a laugh. “You get to kiss her. On stage. Multiple times probably. As part of the show. Officially. With teachers watching and everything, so it’s not even weird.”

Braeden peeked through his fingers, eyes wide. “You’re both the worst friends I’ve ever had.”

“Best friends,” Dylan corrected, already tearing a piece of paper from his notebook and writing “Braeden Lemasters - JD” on it. “We’re signing you up right now. No take-backs.”

Braeden tried to snatch the paper but Cole blocked him with his arm. “Think about it, dude. This is your chance. You’ve been doodling hearts with her name for months. Now you can actually talk to her every day at rehearsal. Maybe even walk her to class after. Super romantic. Very rom-com.”

Braeden groaned again, but this time there was a tiny, hopeless smile sneaking onto his face. The idea of being close to you for weeks… getting to act opposite you… maybe even making you laugh during rehearsals…

“…Fine,” he mumbled, slumping in his seat in defeat. “But if I embarrass myself and she thinks I’m a total loser, I’m blaming both of you.”

Dylan folded the sign-up slip and stuffed it in his backpack with a triumphant grin. “Deal. Now stop drawing hearts and start practicing your JD voice, loverboy.”

Braeden just stared at the empty doorway where you’d stood minutes ago, stomach full of butterflies and terror and way too much hope.

After school, Braeden found himself being physically dragged down the hallway by Dylan and Cole like a criminal being taken to sentencing. His backpack bounced against his back as he tried to plant his feet.

“Guys, wait— I changed my mind! This is a terrible idea!” he whisper-yelled, cheeks already pink.

“Too late, loverboy,” Dylan grinned, not loosening his grip on Braeden’s arm. “We already turned in your form this morning.”

They rounded the corner and there it was: the drama club sign-up table right outside the auditorium. And of course… you were sitting behind it, looking ridiculously cute with your clipboard, colorful pens, and a giant Heathers poster taped to the front of the table.

You looked up when you heard them approaching, and your face lit up with that bright smile that always made Braeden’s brain short-circuit.

“Hey! You guys here to audition?” you asked cheerfully.

Cole shoved Braeden forward so hard he almost tripped into the table. “Yeah, this one right here wants JD.”

Braeden shot his friends a death glare before turning to you, trying to play it cool and failing miserably. “Uh… yeah. If that’s cool.”

You beamed at him, flipping through the papers. “Of course it’s cool! We need a good JD. Okay, so for your audition song, you’d have to prepare ‘Meant to Be Yours.’ It’s the big one.”

Braeden nodded, trying to focus on your words and not on how pretty your eyes looked when you were talking about the musical.

“And if you make it to callbacks that's basically auditions second base,” you continued, completely innocent, “you’ll have to do a scene with me. Specifically ‘Our Love is God.’ Since I’m reading for Veronica.”

The second the words “second base” weren’t even said but heavily implied by the scene choice, Dylan and Cole lost it. They both started giggling like middle schoolers behind Braeden.

“Second base,” Cole whispered, barely containing his laugh.

Dylan covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. “Our Love is God… yeah, bro. That’s definitely second base material.”

Braeden’s face went bright red. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

You tilted your head, confused but amused. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” Braeden said way too fast, shooting his idiot friends another death glare. “They’re just… being dumb. Ignore them.”

You laughed softly, the sound making Braeden’s stomach flip. You scribbled something down on the sign-up sheet and looked back up at him with a sweet smile.“Well, I’m really glad you’re auditioning, Braeden. I’ve heard you sing with your band before. You’re actually really good.”

Braeden blinked, his heart doing a full cartwheel. “You… you’ve heard me sing?”

“Duh,” you said, grinning. “You guys practice near the football field sometimes. Your voice carries.”

Cole and Dylan were now full-on smirking behind him, giving him thumbs up like proud dads.

Braeden swallowed, suddenly feeling both terrified and insanely happy. “Cool… yeah. I’ll practice ‘Meant to Be Yours’ then.”

“Perfect,” you said, sliding the clipboard toward him so he could sign. When he leaned in to write his name, your fingers accidentally brushed his as you held the pen steady.

He almost dropped the pen.

You didn’t seem to notice the way his whole face went nuclear, just smiled at him again. “Good luck, Braeden. I hope you get it.”

As the three of them walked away, Dylan threw an arm around Braeden’s shoulders.“See? She already likes you. And now you get to sing love songs with her. Our Love is God, baby.”

“Shut up,” Braeden groaned, but he couldn’t hide the massive, lovesick smile spreading across his face.

Later that night, Braeden’s phone buzzed like crazy. He was halfway through practicing “Meant to Be Yours” in his room when the group chat exploded.

Dylan: Operation Clear the Field is a go.

Cole: Meet us at the school back gate in 10. Bring gloves.

Braeden: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT???

But of course they didn’t answer. Twenty minutes later, Braeden found himself crouched behind a bush outside the school with his two idiot best friends, all three of them wearing black hoodies like they were in a low-budget heist movie.

“This is a crime,” Braeden whispered frantically. “This is literally breaking and entering. We’re gonna get expelled. Or arrested. Or both!”

Dylan was already picking the lock on the side door with a paperclip and a ridiculous amount of confidence. “Relax, dude. The drama room window was open last time I checked. In and out.”

Cole grinned, shining his phone flashlight like a proper criminal. “We’re just… borrowing the other JD audition forms. If there are no other JDs, you automatically get the role. Simple.”

Braeden ran a hand through his hair, panicking. “This is a felony! We’re stealing people’s dreams! What if someone else really wanted to be JD?!”

Dylan finally got the door open and turned to him with the most dramatic expression. “Braeden. In war and love… all is fair.”

Cole nodded solemnly. “Exactly. This is love, bro. You’ve been pining over Y/N since forever. We’re just removing the competition so you can have your big romantic musical moment.”

Braeden groaned, but let them pull him inside anyway. The three of them tiptoed through the dark hallways until they reached the drama club room. The audition clipboard was sitting right on the teacher’s desk, with a stack of sign-up sheets underneath.

Cole quickly flipped through them. “There are three other guys signed up for JD… Perfect. We’re taking these.”

He stuffed the papers into his backpack while Dylan kept watch at the door.

Braeden stood there looking equal parts horrified and touched. “You guys are actually insane. Like clinically.”

“Yeah, but you love us,” Dylan said, ruffling Braeden’s hair. “And one day when you and Y/N are the cutest theater couple in school history, you’ll thank us.”

They slipped back out the same way they came, hearts racing the whole time. Once they were safely outside the gates, Braeden stopped under a streetlight and stared at his friends.

“I can’t believe you actually did that for me.”

Cole shrugged with a big goofy smile. “What are bros for? Now you just have to crush those practices. No pressure.”

Braeden looked down at his shoes, a shy little smile breaking through. “If I get to do ‘Our Love is God’ with her… and maybe actually get to know her… it might be worth the possible jail time.”

Dylan threw an arm around his shoulders. “That’s the spirit, loverboy.”

The auditorium was packed with drama kids, theater nerds, and a few curious freshmen when you stepped onto the stage with your clipboard and that radiant smile. The whole room went quiet as you tapped the mic.

“Alright everyone! Thank you so much for auditioning. We had some seriously amazing performances…” You paused for dramatic effect, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Braeden sitting between Dylan and Cole in the middle rows. “But here’s the official cast for Heathers: The Musical!”

You started reading the list. When you got to the leads, your voice got extra excited.

“Playing Veronica Sawyer… me, obviously,” you said with a little laugh. “And playing Jason Dean… Braeden Lemasters!”

The auditorium erupted in applause and whistles. Braeden froze in his seat like he’d been hit by lightning.

Dylan and Cole immediately started shoving him. “Go! Go! Get up there, loverboy!”

Braeden stumbled up the aisle, legs feeling like jelly, until he was standing on stage next to you. His heart was hammering so loud he was sure the whole school could hear it.

You didn’t hesitate. The second he was close enough, you threw your arms around him in a big, warm hug right there in front of everyone. Braeden’s brain short-circuited. You smelled like vanilla and strawberry lip gloss and pure chaos.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy it’s you!” you said, still hugging him tight. “We’re gonna be such a good JD and Veronica. We have to practice our chemistry all the time, okay? Like, constantly.”

Braeden pulled back just enough to look at your face, eyes wide. “All the time…?”

You nodded enthusiastically, still holding his arms. “Yeah! For the assemblies and pep rallies we have to sit together and act all couple-y so it feels natural on stage. And we’ll need to rehearse the kisses a lot too. You know… for authenticity.”

Braeden’s face went nuclear red.

Before he could even process what you just said, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss right on his lips. Just a peck, but it was enough to make his knees weak.

You pulled back with a playful grin. “See? Practice! We gotta get comfortable with that. Dead Girl Walking is gonna be intense.”

From the audience, Dylan and Cole were losing their minds — whistling, clapping, and making kissy noises like the chaotic best friends they were.

Braeden stood there stunned, lips tingling, completely lovestruck. He had no idea the “practice” was going to start immediately. Or that he’d have to sit next to you at every assembly pretending to be your boyfriend.

You grabbed his hand and raised it with yours toward the audience. “Let’s give it up for our JD everyone!”

Braeden could barely smile through the panic and pure bliss. All he could think was “Holy shit… this is actually happening.”

Braeden practically floated down the stage steps, legs moving on autopilot while his brain replayed the last thirty seconds on loop.She hugged me. She kissed me. She actually kissed me. On the lips. In front of everyone.

His face was burning bright red, a massive dopey smile plastered across it that he couldn’t wipe off even if he tried. He walked back to his seat in a total daze, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling like he’d just been hit by Cupid’s truck.

Dylan and Cole were waiting for him with matching shit-eating grins.

“Bro…” Dylan started, shaking his head in disbelief. “That went way better than we thought. She kissed you. On stage. Voluntarily.”

Cole laughed, punching Braeden’s arm lightly. “Yeah, dude. Wow. This is gonna be so much better than we planned. You’re actually living the rom-com dream right now.”

Braeden dropped into his seat like his knees had given up, still grinning like an idiot. He covered his face with both hands for a second, peeking through his fingers.

“Shut up… shut up both of you,” he mumbled, voice muffled but clearly giddy. “I’m busy right now. I’m deciding what flowers I want for the wedding. Probably white roses… or maybe sunflowers? She seems like a sunflower girl…”

Dylan barked out a laugh. “You’re so down bad it’s actually impressive.”

From the stage, you cupped your hands around your mouth and shouted loud enough for the whole auditorium to hear:“See you at rehearsals, Brae!”

Then, with zero hesitation, you blew him a dramatic kiss right there in front of the entire drama club.

The room erupted in “Oooohs” and teasing cheers.

Braeden’s heart did a full backflip. He waved back shyly, blush deepening to a new shade of red that probably wasn’t even on the color spectrum. He sank lower in his seat, but the smile on his face only got bigger.

Cole leaned over and whispered, “You’re so getting married for real by the end of this musical.”

“Shut up,” Braeden whispered back, but his voice was soft and dreamy. “I’m still picking the flowers…”

The auditorium lights were dimmed for the first official rehearsal, and the energy was already chaotic in the best way. The three Heathers were up on stage practicing “Candy Store,” running through choreography with way too much attitude and laughter. You were sitting on the edge of the stage for a moment, watching them, before your eyes found Braeden sitting alone in the front row, nervously flipping through his script.

You hopped off the stage and plopped down right next to him, close enough that your knee brushed his.

“Hey, JD,” you said with a bright smile, bumping his shoulder playfully.

Braeden nearly dropped his script. “H-hey, Veronica,” he answered, trying to sound casual but failing completely. His voice came out a little squeaky.

The director called for the crew to start setting up “Fight for Me” — your first big scene together. While the stage was being adjusted, you stayed seated next to him, legs swinging lightly.

“So…” you started, turning to face him fully, “I’ve been meaning to ask. Why did you finally decide to join theater? You never auditioned before, and this is our last big show of the year. Kinda sucks it’s only for the senior musical.”

Braeden froze.

His brain went completely blank. He couldn’t exactly say “Because I’ve had a massive crush on you for three years and my idiot friends forced me into this so I could be close to you.” That would be immediate death by embarrassment.

“Uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink. “I guess I just… wanted to try something new? Before we all graduate and stuff. You know… stepping out of my comfort zone.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a curious little smile. “Really? That’s it? No secret theater dreams hidden away?”

Braeden laughed nervously, avoiding your eyes. “Nope. No secret dreams. Just… thought it could be fun.” And because I’m stupidly in love with you, he thought.

You leaned in a little closer, your shoulder now fully pressed against his. “Well, I’m really glad you did. You’re gonna be an amazing JD. I can already tell we’re gonna have crazy good chemistry.”

The director called your names to come up for “Fight for Me.” You stood up and offered Braeden your hand to pull him up.

“C’mon, partner. Time for our first official interaction.”

Braeden had barely walked out of the auditorium when Dylan and Cole ambushed him in the hallway like two overly excited secret agents.

“So?! How was it?!” Dylan asked, grabbing Braeden’s shoulders and shaking him lightly. “Did you guys practice the kiss again? Tell us everything.”

Braeden let out a long, dramatic groan, running both hands through his hair as they walked toward the parking lot.

“It went… good. Really good, actually,” he admitted, cheeks still a little pink from the whole afternoon. “We ran some scenes, she was super nice and touchy and… yeah. But I’m fucking terrified about ‘Dead Girl Walking.’”

Cole blinked. “Bro, that’s literally the last song you’re gonna rehearse at for. It’s weeks away—”

“No it’s not!” Braeden cut him off, voice cracking with panic. “We’re doing the big numbers first. The director wants to get the hardest ones out of the way. We’re mounting ‘Dead Girl Walking’ tomorrow afternoon.”

Dylan’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow?!”

“Yeah. Tomorrow,” Braeden said, looking genuinely stressed. “I have to do that whole intense, grinding, super sexual scene with her… in front of the whole cast… tomorrow. What the hell am I gonna do?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Cole’s brain supplied the most teenage-boy solution possible.

“Well…” Cole started, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face, “you’re just gonna have to jerk off before and after rehearsal so you don’t get hard on stage, bro.”

The second the words left his mouth, Cole burst out laughing so hard he had to lean against the wall. Dylan immediately joined him, both of them cracking up like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

“Cole, what the fuck—” Braeden groaned, face turning bright red as he shoved his friend. “That’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Dylan wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Imagine you in the middle of ‘Dead Girl Walking’ and suddenly… situation.”

Cole was still dying of laughter. “You better take care of business twice, man. Once in the morning, once right before. Safety first.”

Braeden covered his face with both hands, mortified but also fighting a smile because his friends were ridiculous.“You two are the worst. I’m never telling you anything again.”

Dylan threw an arm around him, still chuckling. “Nah, you love us. But for real… you got this, loverboy. Just don’t think about how hot Y/N’s gonna look in that schoolgirl outfit while you’re singing.”

Braeden let out another long suffering groan as his friends continued laughing all the way to the car.

The auditorium felt ten times smaller the next afternoon.

Braeden stood center stage in his half-costume (just a black trench coat over his normal clothes for now), heart hammering so hard he was sure it was visible through his shirt. The director had decided to jump straight into the big numbers, and here you were — full Veronica energy, skirt slightly hiked up for the choreography, looking way too hot for a school rehearsal.

You started singing, voice strong and confident:

“Sorry, but I really had to wake you See, I've decided I must ride you 'till I break you 'Cause Heather says I got to go You're my last meal on death row Shut your mouth And lose them tighty whiteys Come on!”

Braeden was trying his hardest to stay in character, but he was failing miserably. He was completely gone. His eyes were glued to you as you moved around him with that fierce, playful energy. Every step, every look, every little smirk you gave him made his brain melt.

You pushed him gently backward until he sat on the prop bed. Then, without hesitation, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him like the song demanded. Your hands landed on his shoulders, faces inches apart as you continued singing with full passion:

“Tonight I'm yours! I'm your dead girl walking Get on all fours Kiss this dead girl walking Let's go, you know the drill I'm hot and pissed and on the pill Bow down to the will of a dead girl walking!”

Braeden’s hands hovered awkwardly at your waist, not sure where to put them. His face was burning. He could feel the heat of your body through both your clothes, your weight perfectly settled on his lap. You kept singing, eyes locked on his:

“And you know, you know, you know It's 'cause you're beautiful You say you're numb inside But I can't agree So the world's unfair? Keep it locked out there In here it's beautiful Let's make this beautiful!”

The chemistry was insane.

Even the director stopped to watch, impressed. You two had natural fire — the way you moved together, the way you looked at each other, the tension in the air. It didn’t feel like acting. It felt electric.

Braeden was a mess underneath you. He was trying so hard not to stare at your lips, not to focus on how good you smelled, how soft your thighs felt on either side of him. He was practically drooling, completely lovestruck, eyes wide and heart eyes activated.

When the song ended, you stayed on his lap for a second longer than necessary, breathing a little heavy from the performance. You smiled down at him, soft and genuine.

“You’re really good at this,” you whispered, still close. “That felt… really natural.”

Braeden could only nod dumbly, too dazed to speak properly. “Y-yeah… really natural.”

From the side of the stage, Dylan and Cole (who had snuck in to watch) were silently dying of laughter, giving him double thumbs up.

You finally climbed off his lap, but not before giving his hand a little squeeze.

The director clapped. “That was excellent! Chemistry is perfect. We’re keeping that blocking.”

Braeden sat there stunned, still feeling the ghost of your weight on him, completely and utterly in love.

Braeden was still sitting on the prop bed, looking like he’d just seen God, while you hopped off his lap and laughed at something the director said. You gave Braeden one last playful shoulder bump before moving to the next blocking note.

Cole leaned toward Dylan, whispering, “Okay… am I crazy or is she actually into him?”

Dylan crossed his arms, smirking. “Bro, this is different. She’s never like this.”

“Exactly,” Cole said, eyes narrowed like a detective. “Last year with Phantom of the Opera, she was all business. She barely even hugged her Raoul during rehearsals. And freshman year with Little Shop of Horrors? She treated her co-star like a brother. No extra touches, no staying on laps longer than needed, no blowing kisses from the stage…”

Dylan nodded slowly. “And now look at her with Brae. She’s finding excuses to touch him. She kissed him during the cast announcement. She sat on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. And she called him ‘Brae’ in front of everyone.”

Cole grinned. “There’s zero ‘let’s rehearse chemistry after school’ vibes with other people… but with him? She’s making it part of the process. She’s into him, dude. For real.”

On stage, you turned back toward Braeden with a bright smile and said something that made him blush again. You even fixed the collar of his trench coat for him, fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Dylan let out a low whistle. “This isn’t just good acting. She’s enjoying this way too much. Our boy might actually have a shot.”

Cole pulled out his phone and started typing rapidly in the group chat.

Cole: loverboy you better lock this down

Dylan: she’s down bad fr

Cole: dead girl walking = she wants to be your walking dead girl or something like that (if you know what I mean)

Braeden, who had just walked off stage and seen the messages, looked up at them in horror and flipped them off from across the auditorium.

But even he couldn’t hide the massive, lovesick smile on his face.

You waved at him from the stage. “See you tomorrow, Brae! We’re gonna kill the rest of the show!”

Braeden waved back weakly, heart doing somersaults.

From the back, Dylan and Cole exchanged a look.

“Yeah,” Dylan said confidently. “She’s definitely falling for him.”

Rehearsal finally wrapped up late in the evening. The cast was packing up, the stage lights dimming one by one. Braeden was still floating on a cloud, replaying every moment of “Dead Girl Walking” in his head when Dylan and Cole cornered him near the auditorium exit.

“Okay, loverboy,” Dylan said, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “We have a conspiracy theory.”

Cole jumped in immediately. “She’s 100% into you. For real. Not just ‘good scene partner’ vibes. She’s never been this handsy or flirty with any other co-star in past shows. Not even close.”

Braeden shook his head quickly, face flushing. “Nope. Nope nope nope. You guys are reading way too much into it. She’s just being nice. She’s the theater president, she’s friendly with everyone. It’s all for the show. Chemistry practice and stuff. Don’t get my hopes up like that.”

Dylan laughed. “Bro, she sat on your lap and sang about riding you till she breaks you while staring straight into your soul. That’s not ‘just being nice.’”

“I’m telling you, it’s nothing—” Braeden started, but he stopped mid-sentence.

Because you were walking straight toward them.

Your hair was a little messy from rehearsal, cheeks still slightly pink from all the singing and dancing. You gave Dylan and Cole a quick polite smile before turning your full attention to Braeden.

“Hey, Brae,” you said softly, a little nervous but determined. You played with the strap of your bag. “Can I… talk to you for a second?”

Dylan and Cole immediately took three big steps back, pretending to be very interested in a poster on the wall.

You took a small breath. “So… I was thinking. You’ve been really great in rehearsals and… I don’t know, I feel like we have really good energy together. Not just on stage.” You smiled shyly. “Would you want to go out with me sometime? Like… on a real date? Maybe this weekend? We could get ice cream or something. Or go to the record store. Whatever you want.”

Braeden’s brain completely shut down.

He stood there frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like a fish out of water. His face went from pink to bright crimson in record time.“You… you’re asking me… on a date?” he stuttered, voice barely working.

You nodded, biting your lip with a hopeful little smile. “Yeah. I am.”

Behind you, Dylan and Cole were silently freaking out — fist-bumping and making exaggerated shocked faces.

Braeden finally managed to speak, his voice soft and completely lovestruck:“…Yes. Yeah. Definitely. I’d really like that.”

You beamed, the smile lighting up your whole face. “Great! Text me later and we’ll figure out the details, okay?”

You gave him one last cute wave and walked away toward the exit.

The second you were gone, Dylan and Cole tackled Braeden in a group hug, laughing like maniacs.

“JUST BEING NICE, HUH?!” Cole yelled.

The plates were nearly empty, the low lighting in Braeden’s apartment casting a warm, golden glow over the wooden table. You’d both taken your time with dinner pasta, a little wine, easy conversation that had slowly grown more charged as the night went on. Braeden leaned back in his chair, his long fingers lazily tracing the rim of his wine glass. His eyes, dark and playful, stayed locked on you with that signature half-smirk that always made your stomach flip.

He let the comfortable silence stretch for a moment before tilting his head, voice low and smooth.

“So… I’ve been thinking,” he started, his tone casual but carrying that unmistakable edge. “Have you ever played strip poker?”

You blinked, a small surprised laugh escaping your lips as you set your fork down. The question hung in the air between you, electric.

“Strip poker?” you repeated, eyebrows raised. “I’ve heard of it, obviously. But no… I’ve never actually played.”

Braeden’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, gaze dragging over you like he was already imagining how the night was going to unfold.

“Never?” he asked, voice dropping an octave, husky with interest. “Not even once? Not even some drunk college version?”

You shook your head, feeling heat creep up your neck under the intensity of his stare. “Nope. Never.”

He hummed softly, biting his lower lip for a second as his eyes flickered with clear hunger. The air between you felt thicker now, heavier with promise.“Well then…” murmured, his fingers drumming once against the table. “Maybe tonight we fix that.”

Braeden chuckled softly at your answer, the sound low and warm in his chest. He pushed his chair back and stood up, walking over to the drawer in the living room cabinet. You watched the way his black t-shirt stretched across his shoulders as he reached inside and pulled out a brand new deck of cards, still sealed.

He came back to the table, ripping the plastic off with his teeth before shuffling the deck with practiced, elegant hands. The cards flew smoothly between his fingers as he sat down again, closer this time, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

“Alright,” he said, voice calm and deep, eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll explain it properly so there’s no confusion.”

He dealt a few cards face up on the table to demonstrate, his tone steady but laced with heat.“Five-card draw. We each get five cards. After the deal, you can choose to discard up to three and I’ll give you new ones. Best hand wins the round. Nothing wild — just standard poker rankings: high card, pair, two pair, three of a kind, straight, flush, full house, four of a kind, straight flush. We’ll play multiple rounds.”

Braeden’s gaze dropped slowly to your lips, then back up.“Every time you lose a round, you take off one piece of clothing. Shoes and socks count. We keep going until someone’s naked… or until we decide we’re done with the cards.”

He leaned in a little closer, elbows on the table, the corner of his mouth lifting.“And here’s my rule. The person who loses the most rounds by the end has to do whatever the winner wants for the rest of the night. No limits. No backing out.”

His eyes darkened, voice dropping even lower, almost a murmur.“So… you still want to play?”

You felt your pulse quicken under his intense stare, the new rule hanging heavy in the air between you. A slow, wicked smile curved your lips as you held his gaze.“Yeah,” you said, voice soft but certain. “I want to play.”

The second the words left your mouth, Braeden’s eyes flashed with raw hunger. Without a word, he stood up, pushed his chair back, and rounded the table in one smooth motion. His hands slid under your thighs and he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the open living room floor.

You let out a surprised laugh, your arms looping around his neck. The way he held you — strong, confident, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment — made heat flood straight between your legs.

He lowered you gently onto the soft rug in the middle of the living room, kneeling with you so your back met the floor while he hovered above, his body caging yours. The cards and the rest of the wine were forgotten on the dining table behind you.

“Wow…” you breathed, half-laughing, half-aroused as you looked up at him. “We’re really going all in, huh?”

Braeden smirked down at you, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes. He leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low and filthy.“Oh, baby… you have no idea how all in we’re about to get.”

His hand slid slowly up your thigh, squeezing possessively as he pulled back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide with want.“Still sure you want to play?”

You didn’t even let him finish the question.

You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him hard, hungry, tongues sliding together instantly. Braeden groaned into your mouth, the sound deep and rough as he kissed you back like he wanted to devour you right there on the rug. His body pressed heavier between your legs, one hand gripping your hip tight enough to leave marks.

After a few heated seconds he forced himself to pull back, breathing ragged, lips wet and slightly swollen.

“Fuck… baby, wait,” he murmured, voice husky and strained. “Let me start the game or we’re never actually gonna play.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, still dazed from the kiss. Braeden sat up on his knees, adjusting the obvious bulge in his pants without shame before grabbing the deck from the table. He dealt five cards to each of you right there on the floor, the cards sliding smoothly across the rug.

His eyes kept flicking back to you — dark, filthy, full of promise — as he picked up his own hand.“Five cards. Discard what you don’t want,” he said, voice low. “Then we show.”

He watched you like a predator while you looked at your cards, that dangerous little smirk playing on his lips again.“Your move, princess.”

You stared at your cards, eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. None of it made much sense — you knew the basic idea of poker, but the actual combinations felt like a blur. You shifted on the rug, biting your lip as you tried to figure out what the hell you were supposed to do.

Braeden watched you with dark, amused eyes, his smirk growing wider the longer you struggled.

“Having a little trouble there, baby?” he asked, voice low and teasing. He glanced at his own hand, then back at you. “Don’t worry. Since it’s your first round and you’ve never played… I’ll go easy on you this time.”

Without breaking eye contact, Braeden reached behind his neck, grabbed the collar of his black t-shirt, and pulled it off in one smooth motion. His toned chest and stomach were exposed, the soft lighting catching on the light sheen of sweat already starting to form on his skin. He tossed the shirt aside carelessly.

Your mouth went a little dry at the sight.

“But…” he continued, leaning forward on his hands, voice dropping into that filthy register again, “for the next round, we’re doubling it. Loser takes off two pieces instead of one. You good with that?”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting, his bare shoulders flexing slightly as he shifted closer to you on the rug. The heat in his gaze made it very clear he was already imagining you losing the next hand.

The next few rounds went by fast, and the cards were not on your side.

Braeden’s smirk only grew darker with every hand he won. You lost the second round, then the third, then the fourth. Each loss made your cheeks burn hotter as you peeled off piece after piece under his hungry stare.

First your socks.

Then your shirt, revealing your bra.

Then your jeans, sliding slowly down your legs while Braeden’s eyes followed every inch like he wanted to bite them.

Then your bra, your tits spilling free into the cool air of the apartment, nipples already hard from the tension and his gaze.

By the fifth round you were down to just your panties — a thin, black lace pair that was already damp. You sat there on the rug, knees pressed together, almost completely naked while Braeden still had his pants on, looking far too composed and dangerously turned on.

He leaned back on one hand, slowly licking his bottom lip as his eyes dragged over your bare body like he was memorizing it.

“Fuck, look at you…” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “Losing this bad already, baby? You’re making it way too easy for me.”

He dealt the next hand, but his attention was barely on the cards anymore. His free hand reached out, fingertips lightly tracing up your bare thigh, stopping just before he reached the edge of your panties.

“You’ve only got one piece left,” he said lowly, eyes locked on yours. “If you lose this round… those pretty little panties come off. And then you’re all mine.”

His voice dropped even lower, filthy and promising.

“And I’ve been waiting to see how wet that pussy is for me.”

You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest as you sat there practically naked on the rug, the cool air brushing over your exposed skin. Braeden’s fingers were still teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you were already soaked.

“Not now,” you said breathlessly, catching his wrist before he could push further. Your voice came out softer than you meant, but you held his gaze. “You said… whoever loses the most rounds has to do whatever the winner wants for the rest of the night. Remember?”

Braeden paused, tilting his head as a slow, filthy grin spread across his face. He let out a low, dark chuckle, eyes gleaming with pure lust as he looked you up and down — your tits out, nipples tight, thighs pressed together, only that tiny black lace covering your pussy.

“Oh, I remember,” he murmured, voice rough and dripping with hunger. He leaned in closer, his bare chest almost brushing against your breasts. “So you’re really trying to lose on purpose now, huh?”

He licked his lips slowly, gaze dropping to your mouth before coming back up.“Wow… you really love sucking my cock that much, baby?”

His words were low, dirty, and unfiltered, sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. He cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he smirked.“Because if you keep losing like this… that’s exactly what you’re gonna be doing. On your knees, choking on me while I tell you how pretty you look with my dick down your throat.”

He leaned in and bit your lower lip gently, voice barely above a whisper.“Still wanna keep playing… or are you ready to admit you want to lose?”

You looked up at him, cheeks burning, pussy throbbing from his filthy words. There was no point pretending anymore.“Yeah… I admit it,” you whispered, voice shaky with arousal. “I lost on purpose.”

Braeden’s eyes darkened instantly, a low, hungry groan rumbling in his chest. That confession seemed to flip a switch in him.

“Fuck, baby…” he muttered, voice thick with lust.

Before he could say anything else, you moved forward on your knees, hands greedy and eager. You grabbed the waistband of his pants and tugged them down hard, taking his boxer briefs with them in one pull. His hard cock sprang free, thick, heavy, and already leaking at the tip. It bobbed right in front of your face, veins pulsing, the head flushed and glossy.

You wrapped your fingers around the base, feeling how hot and heavy he was. Braeden hissed through his teeth, hips twitching forward instinctively.

“Look at you…” he breathed, one hand sliding into your hair, gripping it firmly but not pulling yet. “So fucking desperate to choke on my cock that you threw the whole game.”

He watched with dark, blown-out eyes as you stroked him slowly, your other hand resting on his toned thigh. His pants and boxers were bunched around his ankles, but he didn’t bother kicking them off.

“You wanted this so bad, didn’t you?” he groaned, thumb brushing your cheek. “Admit it again while you’re on your knees like a good little slut for me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

Still on your knees, you leaned forward and dragged your tongue slowly across the swollen tip of his cock in soft, teasing kitten licks. You swirled around the head, tasting the salty precum that was leaking steadily for you, eyes looking up at him the whole time.

Braeden groaned deeply, his grip tightening in your hair as he watched you.“Fuuuck… that’s it, baby,” he praised, voice rough and low. “Look at you, being such a good little cockslut already. Those pretty kitten licks… so fucking cute and filthy at the same time.”

He let out a shaky breath when you licked a slow stripe right under the head, right where he was most sensitive.

“Yeah? You love tasting me, don’t you?” he murmured, mixing praise with that dark edge. “My sweet girl on her knees licking my dick like a desperate little whore. So pretty with your tongue out like that… but we both know you can do better than just teasing, can’t you?”

Braeden’s hand guided your head a little closer, not forcing you, but clearly impatient.“Keep going, princess. Lick every fucking drop like the needy cumslut you are. You threw the game just so you could worship this cock… now show me how much you fucking love it.”

His words sent heat flooding through your body as you continued those soft, wet kitten licks, swirling your tongue around his throbbing tip while he watched you with dark, hooded eyes.

You didn’t wait any longer.

With your eyes locked on his, you parted your lips and took Braeden’s thick cock into your mouth, sliding down slowly until the head hit the back of your throat. He let out a deep, guttural groan, his fingers tightening in your hair as wet heat enveloped him.

“Shit… just like that, baby,” he growled, voice hoarse with pleasure. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good. Warm, wet little slut taking me so deep already.”

You started bobbing your head, sucking him with sloppy, eager strokes — hollowing your cheeks on the way up, swirling your tongue around the underside on the way down. Obscene wet sounds filled the living room as you worked him faster, spit already dripping down his shaft and onto your chin.

Braeden’s hips bucked slightly, pushing a little deeper into your throat every few thrusts.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised breathlessly, looking down at you with dark, lust-drunk eyes. “Sucking my cock like you were fucking born for it. Look at you — on your knees, tits out, choking on every inch like a desperate cumslut.”

He groaned louder when you relaxed your throat and took him even deeper, nose brushing against his pelvis.“Fuuuck, yes… just like that. You threw the game just so you could swallow my dick, didn’t you? Such a nasty, cock-hungry little whore for me.”

His hand guided your rhythm, not too rough but firm, fucking your mouth with controlled thrusts while you moaned around him, the vibrations making his thighs tense.“You’re doing so fucking good, baby… keep sucking just like that and I might reward that pretty throat.”

Braeden’s breathing grew ragged, his grip in your hair tightening as you sucked him harder, faster, taking him deep into your throat with wet, filthy sounds. Spit ran down your chin and dripped onto your bare tits while you moaned around his thick cock, eyes watering but never breaking eye contact.

“Fuck— baby, I’m close,” he groaned, voice wrecked and deep. “You’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard…”

He pulled you off his cock with a wet pop, stroking himself fast with one hand while the other kept your head in place. His eyes were dark, pupils blown as he looked down at your messy, eager face.

“Open your mouth. Tongue out,” he ordered, breathing heavy.

You obeyed instantly, sticking your tongue out like a good little slut, eyes locked on his as he pumped his slick cock right in front of you.

“That’s it… my pretty cumslut,” he growled, voice shaking with pleasure. “Gonna paint that beautiful face. Fuck—”

With a deep, broken moan, Braeden came hard.

Thick ropes of hot cum shot across your face — landing on your tongue, your cheeks, your lips, and dripping down your chin. He kept stroking himself through it, milking every last drop onto your skin while groaning your name under his breath. Some of it landed on your tits, sliding down slowly over your hard nipples.

You stayed there on your knees, breathing hard, face covered in his cum, looking up at him with hazy, satisfied eyes.

Braeden stared down at you for a long moment, chest heaving, then let out a low, possessive chuckle. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, smearing his cum a little more.

“Fuck… look at you,” he murmured, voice soft but still filthy. “All messy and pretty with my load all over your face. Such a good girl for me.”

He leaned down and kissed you deep, tasting himself on your tongue, before pulling back with a dark smirk.

The night air was cool and carried the faint scent of rain that had fallen earlier, leaving the streets glistening under the streetlights. Braeden’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he walked you up the path toward your apartment building, his steps slow like he wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end.

The talking stage between you two had been going on for a few weeks now sweet texts, long phone calls, and a handful of dates that always left you smiling like an idiot long after he’d said goodnight. But tonight, like every other night, that familiar knot of hesitation tightened in your chest.

You’d been here before. The butterflies, the hope, the way someone could slowly take up more and more space until you barely recognized yourself anymore. You’d lost pieces of yourself in past relationships, pieces you’d fought hard to get back. You didn’t want to disappear again. Not even for someone as disarmingly kind as Braeden Lemasters.

He stopped just under the warm glow of the building’s entrance light, turning to face you fully. His dark hair was a little messy from the breeze, and his smile was soft, almost shy, as he looked at you.“Thanks for tonight,” he said, voice low and warm. “I had a really good time. I always do with you.”

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart did a little flip at his words. “Me too. The movie was terrible, but the company made up for it.”

Braeden chuckled, that quiet laugh you were already starting to love. He reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary.“I know it’s late,” he continued, glancing toward the glass doors of your building, “but I wanted to walk you all the way here. I don’t like the idea of you walking alone, even if it’s just a few steps.”

He was always like this considerate without being overbearing, sweet without making it feel like a performance. It scared you a little how effortless it felt with him.

Braeden shifted his weight, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket as if he needed to stop himself from reaching for you again. “Get some rest, okay? Text me when you’re inside so I know you made it up safely.”

You nodded, biting your lip. Part of you wanted to invite him up. Another, louder part reminded you of all the times you’d given too much, too soon. “I will,” you promised softly.

He looked at you for a long moment, like he was memorizing your face under the golden light. Then he leaned in and pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, warm and lingering.“Goodnight, beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. “I’ll be thinking about you the whole drive home.”

When he pulled back, his eyes were bright and sincere, and for a second the fear in your chest felt a little smaller.

You watched as he waited until you’d typed in the code and stepped inside the lobby. Even through the glass, he gave you one last smile and a small wave before turning to walk back toward his car, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed like the night had been perfect just because he got to spend it with you.

As the elevator doors closed behind you, your phone already buzzed with a text.

Brae: Made it inside? ❤️

You smiled despite yourself, the warmth of his forehead kiss still lingering.

The elevator ride up to your floor felt shorter than usual, your heart still doing that annoying fluttery thing it always did after spending time with Braeden. When you finally pushed open the door to your apartment, the familiar scent of vanilla candles and Gabriette’s latest baking experiment wrapped around you like a hug.

You barely made it two steps inside before you caught your reflection in the hallway mirror cheeks flushed, a soft, dazed smile playing on your lips that you couldn’t wipe off no matter how hard you tried.

You looked… happy. Stupidly, undeniably happy.

“Damn, girl,” Gabriette’s voice rang out from the living room couch where she was sprawled with a bowl of popcorn and a half-finished glass of wine. She raised an eyebrow, smirking as she took you in. “Love looks good on you. Like, glowy. Did Braeden carry you home on a white horse or something?”

You rolled your eyes, kicking off your shoes and trying to play it cool even as warmth crept up your neck. “I’m not in love, Gab. It was just a date. A really nice date.”

Gabriette let out a dramatic snort, pausing the reality show she’d been watching. “Dumb of me I forgot. You have that whole ‘I’m terrified of commitment because every guy before him sucked the soul out of you’ thing going on.” She waved her hand in a mock fancy gesture. “My bad. Carry on denying your feelings while you float around the apartment like a Disney princess.”

You groaned, dropping onto the couch beside her and stealing a handful of popcorn. “It’s not that dramatic. We’re just… talking. Hanging out. I like him, okay? But I’m not losing myself again. Not this time.”

Gabriette softened a little, tilting her head as she studied you. Even in her teasing, she knew exactly why you were guarded. She’d been there through the last breakup the one that left you picking up pieces of who you used to be for months.

“I know,” she said more gently, nudging your shoulder with hers. “But Braeden seems… different. The way you smile when you talk about him? I haven’t seen that in a long time.”

You pulled out your phone, the text from Braeden still lighting up the screen. Made it inside? ❤️ You quickly typed back:

You: Just walked in. Thanks for tonight. Sweet dreams.

The little typing bubbles appeared almost instantly, and your stomach flipped again.

Gabriette peeked over your shoulder and grinned. “See? That face right there. You’re so gone.”

“I’m not,” you insisted, even as you bit back another smile. But deep down, a tiny voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, Braeden was worth testing the waters for.

You were halfway through your second handful of popcorn when Gabriette suddenly scooted closer on the couch, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of mischief and genuine concern. She grabbed the remote, muted the TV, and stood up with dramatic flair.

“Alright, that’s it. Free therapy session, no charge. You’re getting the full Gabriette experience tonight,” she announced, pointing a finger at you like a judge about to deliver a verdict.

Before you could protest, she moved to the cozy armchair across from the couch, flopping into it like a therapist from a sitcom. She reached into the little side table drawer, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with a dramatic flick of her lighter. The smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling as she crossed her legs and fixed you with a serious look.

You raised an eyebrow. “Therapy with props? Really?”

“Shh. This is method acting,” she said, waving the cigarette for emphasis. Then her voice dropped into a deeper, mock-professional tone. “So tell me, dear patient… Why the fuck are you so afraid of love when you literally have a blue prince waiting for you to say yes?”

The words hit harder than you expected. You sank back into the cushions, pulling a throw pillow into your lap like a shield.“I’m not afraid of love,” you muttered, even though you both knew that was a lie. “I’m afraid of what happens after. Every time I let someone in, I end up shrinking myself to fit their world. I stop writing songs. I stop going out with my friends. I stop being… me. And Braeden’s amazing, Gab. He really is. But what if I disappear again? What if I wake up one day and don’t even recognize who I am because I gave everything to him?”

Gabriette took a slow drag, watching you through the smoke. Her expression softened, but she didn’t let you off the hook.“Baby, that boy walked you to the door like a gentleman from a 90s rom-com. He texts you goodnight. He listens when you talk about your music. He’s not rushing you. That’s not ‘consuming.’ That’s… rare.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You deserve something soft for once. Something that adds to you instead of taking away. What if Braeden’s the one who helps you become even more yourself?”

You stared at the floor, Braeden’s forehead kiss still warm on your skin and his text still open on your phone. The fear was there, loud and familiar, but so was the quiet hope that maybe this time could be different.

Gabriette smiled gently, tapping ash into a little tray. “Just think about it, okay? You don’t have to say yes to forever tonight. But don’t say no just because you’re scared.”

The apartment fell quiet except for the distant hum of the city outside. You hugged the pillow tighter, heart heavy with everything you hadn’t said yet.

Gabriette exhaled a slow stream of smoke, her eyes never leaving yours. She leaned back in the armchair like a wise, slightly chaotic oracle, the cigarette balanced elegantly between her fingers.“And besides,” she continued, voice softer now but still cutting right through your defenses, “why do you always think that in love you have to make yourself smaller? Like it’s some kind of requirement? When in reality… there’s nothing more beautiful than love done right.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she held up a hand, cutting you off gently.

“I’ve seen you do it before. Shrinking. Folding yourself into tiny versions so the guy feels bigger. But that’s not love, babe. That’s survival. Real love—the kind that makes you glow like you did when you walked through that door tonight—makes you bigger. It makes you louder, braver, more you. It’s supposed to feel like adding colors you didn’t even know existed, not erasing the ones you already have.” She took another drag, letting the words settle between you.“Braeden looks at you like you’re already enough. Like your music, your weird little habits, your big dreams—they’re not things he wants to dim. He wants to watch them get brighter. And yeah, maybe that scares you even more. Because if he’s this good now, in the talking stage… what happens when it gets real?”

You swallowed hard, the truth of her words pressing against the walls you’d built so carefully. Part of you wanted to believe her. The other part—the one still carrying scars from relationships that had slowly chipped away at your confidence—whispered that it was safer to keep your distance.

Gabriette stubbed out the cigarette and gave you a small, encouraging smile.“You don’t have to decide anything tonight. But just imagine it… letting yourself grow instead of shrink. With him.”

The quiet that followed felt heavier, but warmer too. Your phone buzzed again on the coffee table another message from Braeden, probably checking in one last time and your fingers itched to pick it up.

You hugged the pillow tighter against your chest, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

“It’s not just about making myself smaller, Gab,” you said, voice quieter now. “It’s that I don’t want to stop being autonomous. I’ve always been able to do everything by myself, and that’s how it’s always going to be. I don’t want to get used to having someone else who might not stay. Besides… I’m afraid to lose myself.”

Gabriette stayed quiet for a moment, watching you with that knowing, gentle look she only brought out during these late-night heart-to-hearts. She set the lighter down on the side table and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “I hear you,” she said softly. “And I get it. You’ve built this whole independent life, and it’s beautiful. You pay your own bills, chase your music, handle your shit like a boss. That’s not something you should ever give up. But loving someone doesn’t mean handing over your autonomy like it’s a trade-off. The right person doesn’t want to carry you—they want to walk beside you.” She smiled a little, tilting her head. “Braeden doesn’t strike me as the type who needs you to shrink so he can feel tall. He seems like the kind who’d cheer while you do your own thing, then celebrate with you at the end of the day. But yeah… the fear of them leaving? That one’s real. It’s scary as hell to let someone close when you’ve been burned before.”

You nodded, throat tight. The idea of getting comfortable with Braeden’s good morning texts, his forehead kisses, his steady presence—only for it to disappear one day—made your stomach twist. You’d survived on your own for so long. What if depending on someone, even a little, made you weaker?

Gabriette reached over and squeezed your knee. “You don’t have to lose yourself to let him in. The best kind of love makes your independence even stronger because you know you’ve got backup if you need it. Not because you need saving… but because you deserve support.” She paused, giving you space to breathe.“Just think about it. You’ve already survived losing yourself once. You know how to find your way back. Maybe this time you won’t have to.”

A small, nervous laugh escaped you as the weight of the conversation settled. You shook your head, still clutching the pillow, and looked at your roommate with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression.

“Oh, my all wise model therapist,” you said dramatically, “would I be completely insane if I ran over to his apartment right now?”

Gabriette burst out laughing, the sound bright and familiar in the quiet living room. She leaned back in the armchair, pretending to adjust imaginary glasses as she stayed in character.“Well, legally? In some way, yes. That would be breaking and entering, my dear patient,” she said in her best mock-therapist voice, tapping ash that wasn’t there anymore. “But… if he opens the door for you? Then it’s straight-up romantic. Movie-ending, grand-gesture, ‘I couldn’t wait another second’ kind of energy.”

She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at you. “Picture it: you showing up at his door all breathless and cute, telling him you’re scared but you’re willing to try anyway. He’d probably melt on the spot. Braeden seems like the type who’d pull you inside, make you tea or something disgustingly sweet, and just… talk. Or kiss you stupid. Both are acceptable outcomes.”

You felt your face heat up at the image standing outside his door late at night, heart pounding, finally admitting that the fear was loud but the pull toward him was louder.

“But seriously,” Gabriette added, dropping the playful tone a bit, “you don’t have to run anywhere tonight if you’re not ready. Baby steps, remember? You’re already doing the hard part by even talking about this instead of pushing him away. As you do” She gave you a soft, encouraging smile. “The fact that you’re even considering it says a lot. Your independent heart is still in there… it’s just making room. Slowly.”

Your phone sat on the table, Braeden’s unanswered text still waiting. The idea of showing up at his place felt terrifying and exciting all at once like the start of every good rom-com you’d ever secretly loved.

“Fuck it,” you said suddenly, standing up so fast the pillow fell to the floor. “I’ll be right back.”

Gabriette’s eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Wait—right now? Go get him, girl!”

You didn’t give yourself time to overthink. You grabbed your keys, slipped on the nearest shoes, and practically ran out the door, heart hammering against your ribs as you took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, and your feet carried you down the quiet street toward Braeden’s apartment a few blocks away.

As you walked—half-jogging, really—your mind raced with everything you wanted to say.

Braeden, I’m scared. I’ve lost myself before and it nearly broke me. I’m terrified of depending on someone and waking up one day realizing I disappeared again. But you… you make me want to try anyway. You make me laugh without trying. You listen like my dreams matter. You’re patient and kind and you look at me like I’m already enough exactly as I am. I don’t want to shrink. I want to grow with you—if you’ll let me.

Your breath came out in nervous little clouds in the cool air. You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets, pulse thundering in your ears.

What if this is stupid? What if I’m too much, too soon? But what if he’s the one who finally proves that love doesn’t have to take pieces away? What if he’s the blue prince Gab keeps talking about?

You turned the corner, his building coming into view under the soft glow of the streetlights. Your steps slowed for a moment as doubt tried to creep back in, but you shook it off and kept going, the memory of his gentle smile and the way he always waited until you were safely inside pushing you forward.

By the time you reached his door, your cheeks were flushed from the walk and your nerves. You stood there for a second, breathing hard, fist hovering inches from the wood.

This was it.

Your fist finally connected with the door—three soft, nervous knocks. For a heartbeat, nothing happened, and you almost turned around and sprinted back home. Then you heard footsteps inside.

The door swung open, and there stood Braeden, looking ridiculously cute in a worn gray hoodie and sweatpants, his dark hair slightly messy like he’d been running his fingers through it while relaxing. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw you, but that soft, warm smile quickly spread across his face, lighting up his whole expression.

You didn’t even give him a chance to speak.

“Braeden, I— I’m scared,” you blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in a nervous rush. “I’ve lost myself in relationships before and it nearly broke me. I’ve always done everything on my own and I’m really good at it, but the idea of getting used to someone who might not stay… it terrifies me. I don’t want to shrink. I don’t want to disappear. I want to stay me—fully me—but with you I keep thinking maybe… maybe it could be different.” You were talking faster now, hands gesturing wildly as you shifted your weight from foot to foot, cheeks burning.“You’re so patient and kind and you kiss my forehead like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you wait until I’m inside and you text me goodnight and— God, I sound crazy right now, don’t I? But I like you. I really, really like you. And I’m afraid to lose myself but I’m more afraid of never finding out what this could be if I keep hiding behind my fear. I want to try. With you. If you’ll let me. Even if it’s slow. Even if I mess up and get nervous and—”

Your voice cracked a little on the last words. You stood there on his doorstep, a complete adorable mess of nerves, breathing hard and staring up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, heart laid completely bare.

Braeden hadn’t said a single word yet. He just looked at you, eyes soft and full of something deep and warm, lips slightly parted like he was still processing the whirlwind that had just shown up at his door.

You took a shaky breath, your hands fidgeting at your sides as you forced yourself to finish what you’d started.“And… and all of that was just my really messy way of saying that I love you,” you whispered, voice trembling but clear. “I love you, Braeden. And I’d really like to be your girlfriend. I know you haven’t asked me yet, but I’m putting it on the table. I’m scared, but I want this. I want you.”

The words hung in the quiet hallway between you, raw and honest. Your heart felt like it might beat right out of your chest as you stared up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with nerves and hope.

For a heartbeat, Braeden just looked at you his expression softening into something so tender it made your knees weak. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, cupped your face gently with both hands, and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or overwhelming. It was soft, warm, and full of everything he hadn’t said yet—reassurance, affection, and a quiet joy that made the fear in your chest loosen its grip. His lips moved against yours with such care, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks as if you were something precious he couldn’t quite believe was real.

When he finally pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath mingled with yours, and you could feel him smiling.

Braeden’s forehead stayed pressed gently against yours, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with such tenderness it made your heart ache in the best way. “I know,” he said softly, voice low and warm. “And I want you to know I’ll never pressure you into anything. We can go at your pace—completely. Slow nights, late texts, figuring it out as we go. I’m right here.”

You looked up at him, eyes still shiny with nerves and courage, and something inside you finally clicked into place.“I know you wouldn’t,” you whispered, a small smile breaking through. “But I’m tired of waiting so much. I don’t want slow anymore. Not with you.”

Without giving yourself another second to overthink, you kissed him bold and sure this time. Braeden made a quiet, happy sound against your lips before kissing you back with everything he had.

Then, in one smooth motion, he lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried you inside. The door clicked shut behind you with a nudge of his foot, and a playful little smack landed on your ass, making you squeak and laugh into the kiss.

Braeden grinned against your mouth, eyes sparkling with pure joy as he held you close.“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he murmured, voice full of affection. “I love you too. So much.”