#softonstyles

Part Ten ─ Part Eleven ─ Part Twelve

Part Thirteen ─ Part Fourteen ─ Part Fifteen

(Because, if you asked her – who, or what, could be appointed the keeper of such things? When was it determined to let go, to walk away? It seemed to her that decisions like these demanded the utmost care, yet were often made in moments of haste.)

The second was unpacking, an inevitable consequence of the former.

And at this very moment, she was in the thick of it — arms deep in a cardboard graveyard of coats and jackets past.

With the ease of someone who had done this more times than she cared to admit, Aurora surfaced; two jackets in each hand, a small cloud of dust trailing behind her. It had been two years since she last opened this box, packed away during her post-college move — when she reluctantly traded Colorado’s crisp mountain air for New Mexico’s dry heat, where her family had settled in recent years.

Another difficult transition.

Swallowing a sigh, Aurora focused on carefully hanging the two jackets she planned to keep, draping the others over her bed. It might have been mid-August in Vermont (especially if the humidity coming in through her open window had anything to say about it), but fall would be here soon enough. The colder seasons in this state were rumored to be unforgiving, and while she liked to be prepared, four jackets felt excessive when two would comfortably suffice.

Her brown eyes wandered to the untouched donation pile in the corner. With her lease signed for the next three years, there was more than enough time for clutter to creep in and take over. She had to stay ahead of it now, before the semester began and her packed schedule left no room to manage it later.

After a prolonged internal debate, she hung the remaining jackets beside the others in her closet. She assured herself it had nothing to do with the reluctance to let things go — no, Aurora was simply being practical. After all, her roommate should have the chance to go through them first.

And if her roommate didn’t want them? Well, that would be. . . fine. 

She would just donate them.

Probably.

The pile would be sorted out by the end of the process.

Eventually.

Speaking of said roommate, Aurora pulled out her phone to check for any updates. It was already 11:33 A.M., despite her roommate’s confident declaration last night that she would arrive ‘bright and early’ at 11:00 A.M. With no missed notifications in sight, she shook her head with a knowing smile.

Classic Char.

It appeared that some things never changed.

And sometimes, that was for the best.

Charlotte Styles’ quirks — vastly different from her own — were comforting in their familiarity. This would be the first time Aurora lived with someone she previously knew and trusted outside of her family, making the move feel less daunting.

Their friendship stretched back four years, to the day they first met in their sorority. Aurora, then a junior, had matched as a ‘big’ to Charlotte, a cheerful freshman she quickly took under her wing. 

Despite their differences (and there were many), their bond had been seamless. Charlotte had a way of pulling Aurora out of her comfort zone and into a world of excitement, while Aurora instinctively kept Charlotte grounded when her enthusiasm threatened to run wild. 

Over the years, Charlotte became the younger sister she never had but always wanted. Sure, her antics sometimes resembled those of Aurora’s seventeen-year-old brother — but that only made Charlotte all the more endearing.

Charlotte turned to Aurora for advice on everything — school, career, relationships.

And Aurora never turned her away.

Now, here they were — or would be, once Charlotte arrived – standing at the start of something new: Aurora embarking on a doctorate in physical therapy, and Charlotte launching into an MBA program.

It was a rare thing, she thought, to move forward while keeping an important part of your past close.

The thought was warm enough to dull the yawn creeping up her throat. Two days on the road from New Mexico to Vermont had left her, any last reserves of energy dissipating somewhere between endless highways and a restless first night in the apartment. She had planned to wait for Charlotte before venturing out for coffee, but the temptation of collapsing amid unpacked boxes was becoming harder to resist.

With a renewed determination, Aurora reached for a claw clip and twisted her curls into a messy bun. It was only a matter of time before the summer heat undid her efforts, but for now, it gave her a small sense of control. Pocketing her keys, she stepped out onto the sunlit street.

Last night, while navigating unfamiliar roads, Aurora noticed a coffee shop several blocks away from their place. Now, she retraced her steps through the picturesque streets with hopeful precision. She and Charlotte had been fortunate to secure their charming, if snug, apartment in the city’s historic district — a find they had finalized less than a month before. 

Since then, Aurora had dedicated herself to curating a list of places (mainly craft and antique stores) she was eager to explore. Charlotte, a Vermont native, was already acquainted with most of the places on Aurora’s list. Yet, she embraced Aurora’s enthusiasm and indulged in each suggestion as if it were a new discovery. Charlotte had even reviewed the list with genuine interest, offering practical, budget-friendly alternatives to some of the more expensive options.

Despite her occasional lack of tact, Aurora held a deep admiration for Charlotte’s kindness and natural generosity. It was a quality that had defined their friendship from the start. On their sorority’s reveal day, while other “bigs” presented their “littles” with extravagant gifts, Charlotte had been delighted by Aurora’s modest but heartfelt offerings. She was filled with apprehension at first, but her worries dissolved when Charlotte’s smile radiated with sincerity.

Lost in thought, Aurora nearly walked past the coffee shop, only stopping when its pastel sign — Cozy’s — caught her eye against the rustic street. She stepped inside, relieved to escape the oppressive heat. 

The line moved at a leisurely pace, giving her plenty of time to peruse the foreign menu unhurriedly. The menu behind the register was a visual delight, its chalk script meandering across the board in alluring strokes. She briefly wondered if the person responsible was part of the art program at her new school. 

Aurora appreciated the tasteful details — and even more, the reasonable prices they spelled out. Caught between the comfort of a regular brew and the indulgence of an iced latte, her indecision was interrupted by the barista’s lively announcement.

“. . . And for just one dollar and seventy-five cents more, you can add one of today’s bakery specials to your order: a lemon blueberry tart, or olive oil bundt cake.”

She would not pass that up. And the choice was clear, too (an olive oil bundt cake, of course). Sweet, but subtle.

The patron ahead of her wavered, the delay only noticeable when the person behind Aurora exhaled an audible sigh of impatience. How rude. A pang of sympathy stirred within her. Few sensations were as unpleasant as feeling rushed.

On impulse, she leaned forward and offered gently, “I think the olive oil bundt cake is a good choice. It’s light and pairs well with most anything.”

The words slipped from Aurora’s lips before she had time to second-guess them, surprising even herself. She wasn’t the type to strike up conversations with strangers, but something about the moment, the quiet strain in the customer’s hesitation, compelled her.

No one deserved to feel pressured, least of all in a place meant to be comforting.

They were in a coffee shop called Cozy’s, for goodness sake.

Aurora’s reverie shattered when the stranger ahead turned, his gaze locking with hers in a moment of deliberate intensity. The mere sight of him — an unexpected embodiment of poise and understated charm — stilled her breath. She absorbed every detail of his presence, and it was clear that he was doing the same.

Tall and composed, he exuded a compelling sense of command from his broad shoulders. But something else was there, too. Subtle lines etched around piercing green eyes spoke of lived experiences, yet they retained a spark of youthful intrigue. Those warm, inquisitive eyes lingered on hers longer than expected, hinting at a connection that defied explanation.

“Whatever you say,” he murmured at last, his voice low and smooth – a cascade of syllables that wrapped around her like a slow-burning ember, catching fire.

This felt intimate.

She felt exposed.

Aurora could only blink as her composure began to fade away, away. . .

Conscious of her continued gaze, she felt unanchored in his presence. She searched for something clever to say in response — something to say at all — but all logic escaped, and with it, her capacity for coherent speech. 

And then it clicked: his hesitation wasn’t due to pressure or indecision. No, he was clearly the kind of man who took his time — measured, thorough, talking you through it. . . and she really needed to stop thinking about that now.

Clearing his throat, he faced the barista again. “Two of the olive oil bundt cakes, please,” he ordered, then flashed Aurora a breathtaking smile. “One for me, and the other for the helpful young woman behind me.”

Between the sugar, her upcoming doctorate program, and now him — none of it could be good for her health.

A deep flush crept from Aurora’s neck to her face. It was unusual for her to react this way over a simple act of kindness, but something about him — the way he looked at her — dissolved her usual composure. She clung to it now, trying to steady herself.

“Oh,” Aurora said softly, “that’s generous, but you really don’t have to —”

He was already facing her again, extending a light blue bag with the treat nestled inside. The cool metal of his silver rings brushed against her warm palm as he handed it over.

Absolutely not good for her health.

“Please, I insist,” he said, his smile broadening. “It’s my way of thanking you for the expert pairing advice.”

Not good, downright bad for her health.

“Well, thank you,” she replied with a nervous laugh. “And you’re welcome, I guess.”

As he moved back to let Aurora approach the counter, she could still feel the weight of his gaze on her. It wasn’t intrusive, but rather a soft focus that seemed to draw her in. That was precisely the reason she couldn’t turn around, afraid of losing herself in it again. 

“May I please have a medium iced latte?” she remained planted in place, resisting the urge to look back over her shoulder.

Would he still be there, waiting?

And even if he was, what would she possibly say or do?

The torrent of thoughts racing through Aurora’s head made her feel foolish. He was just a stranger — a kind one, yes — but a stranger nonetheless.

Yet, that didn’t lessen the sting of disappointment when she collected her order, turned around, and found. . . no one.

Cozy’s was quieter now; the line shorter, chatter subdued. Her eyes scanned the room once, twice, hoping to see him again. She shook her head, took a sip of her latte, and let out a bitter laugh at the absurdity of it all.

It appeared that Aurora Rivera was not one to easily rile, save now for three things.

Because, what could he even want to talk about? What would even be the point, if he had no intention of allowing the dynamic between them to change? Was he hoping for another one of their charged conversations — all smoke, no heat— only to leave things unresolved again? She had gone to bed aching and unsatisfied more than once, thank you very much, and she would rather go without a third.

The longer she waited, the more her frustration grew. And it wasn’t even solely at him (though his relentless wavering was enough to drive anyone mad), but more so at herself. For staying, and foolishly hoping. For surrendering control to someone when she had worked hard in her life to call the shots. Harry had the ability to unravel her in ways no one else ever had, and that — more than his indecision — was what truly set her on fire.

She stood, ready to put an end to what had been one of the longest nights in her life, when the front door creaked open and Harry stepped inside. Even in the dim light, she saw the weight on his face. The warm, charming, and impossible man she cared for seemed to be replaced with someone quieter. More somber.

When Harry looked up and found her standing in the living room, he let out a deep exhale; a flicker of relief moving past his features as he gently closed the door behind him.

“Hi there,” he said softly, almost tentatively.

And just like that, some of the heat in her chest dissipated.

Almost.

“Hi.” Her tone was clipped; not quite how she intended it, but not entirely unearned. She didn’t want to be angry, but what choice had he given her?

“You waited up for me,” Harry said as he took off his jacket, eyes never leaving her. “Thank you.”

Aurora crossed her arms, signaling the distance she wanted to keep between them. She didn’t sit back down, but she didn’t walk away either. “Sure.”

He studied her, likely gauging just how deep he was in it. “I just wanted to check on you,” he said. “You left before everyone else,” grimacing, he added, “well, almost everyone.”

“Everything was fine,” she nodded. “The rest of the group was heading to another bar, but I was tired. Charlotte’s staying at Be—” she coughed, catching herself, “—Marilyn’s tonight, and Kyle offered to go back with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”

He caught the slip, she saw it in the twitch of his mouth, but chose not to comment.

“Right.” He said, folding his hands in front of him. “That was nice of him to do. Ryle’s a good kid, his family moved to the neighborhood a few years back.”

Her eyebrows lifted. Was that a jab? Harry had said Kyle’s name correctly in the car, she knew he remembered.

“Yeah,” she replied sharply. “Kyle’s great. And it was so thoughtful of you to interrupt our conversation and take him home.”

“Oh, that? That was nothing,” Harry said with a grin, feigning innocence as his eyes dropped to the floor. “And Kyle, Ryle — close enough.”

“One’s a guy,” she shot back, “and the other’s a crocodile.”

He laughed, and she hated how much she wanted to smile. Hated how good he still looked, no matter how much he had gotten under her skin. He wasn’t even wearing the same clothes from that morning, which meant he had gone home to change. And somewhere deep within her, unwelcome thoughts stirred — who exactly had he gotten dressed for?

“Katy seems nice,” Aurora said, tone cool and even.

His laughter slowly dissipated. He looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “She is. We’ve been friends a long time.”

“Oh.”

“I was the best man at her wedding. To her wife, Ashanti.”

Oh.

“Nice,” she said, nodding like it was nothing, even as relief spread through her chest.

He stepped toward her slowly, and her stomach pulled tight. His gaze traced over her — not crude, just lingering — with a quiet heat that made her skin prickle.

“Very nice,” he agreed. The words were simple, harmless on their own, but the way he said them made her pulse quicken.

She didn’t think he was drunk, but there was something different about him tonight — less guarded, like the seams of his usual restraint had come slightly undone. If it were anyone else, that kind of look would have made her shrink back. But with Harry, it was different. She leaned in, wanting his eyes on her.

He stopped in front of her and reached for her right hand. His fingers slid around hers, warm and steady, as his thumb brushed slow, deliberate strokes across the back. “Aurora,” he began, her name soft on his tongue. “Last night was. . . a lot happened last night. Do you want to talk about it?”

She tried to ignore the effect of his touch. “There’s nothing to talk about, Harry.”

“No?” The word lacked his usual teasing lilt. His voice carried the same tension in her chest, like he could feel everything she was and didn’t know where to put it. “If you’re upset,” he went on, “I understand. I do. And I think we should —”

Her anger snapped free, uncoiling in a flash.

“It’s always what you think —” she said, cutting him off, “— what you feel, what you decide, and when you decide it. I just said that I don’t want to talk. Can you respect that?”

Harry winced.

“Of course. Of course I can. I’m sorry.”

And she knew he meant it, that he hadn’t intended to push. That made her feel worse, somehow — like she had struck something soft without meaning to. She pulled her hand back and walked into the kitchen.

Distance. She needed distance.

Behind her, she heard the faint sound of his footsteps following at a respectful distance. She opened the kitchen cabinet with more force than necessary and grabbed a glass, filling it with water just to give herself something to do. The silence between them felt fragile, stretched thin.

She stared down at the marble countertop, letting the cool water settle her. Harry remained by the doorway and said nothing; careful not to intrude on the storm brewing inside her, but unwilling to let her weather it alone. 

When she glanced up, his eyes were no longer on her. His eyes were downcast, fingers absently rubbing at his neck. The sight pulled at her, a quiet thread of concern unraveling her frustration.

“You shouldn’t angle your head like that,” she said softly. “It strains your neck and leads to muscle overuse. Do you have a standing desk at work?”

He looked up, surprised. “I don’t, no. Should I?”

“Definitely.” She moved toward the freezer, leaving her half-full glass behind. “It’s one of the main reasons we have so many office workers come in. Bad posture, repetitive strain, poor ergonomics.” She recited it like second nature, the knowledge embedded from her time as a physical therapy aide at the rehabilitation center near her university. 

“Good to know,” Harry said. “I’ll order one tonight.”

Aurora turned, ice pack in hand, and crossed back to him. He straightened a little, as if unsure what to expect.

“And here I was,” he said with a crooked smile, looking to fill the silence, “thinking it was just my age.”

She gave a dry laugh and circled behind him. “Here,” she murmured, gently placing the pack on his neck. Then she leaned in, voice low near his ear. “And for the record? Not everything is about your age, Harry.”

She meant to leave right after. But then his hand closed around hers, large and warm. 

“Aurora.”

He didn’t let go as he turned toward her, moving close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. “I know you said you didn’t want to talk, and if that’s still the case, then I’ll respect your decision.” He paused. “But. . . is there any part of you that might be willing to just — hear me out?”

“That depends.” She hesitated, her gaze flicking between his. “I’ve already had my ego bruised two nights in a row, and I’m really not in the mood for a third.”

Sometimes, it was hard for Aurora to speak so openly — especially when it came to him — but there was something about the sincerity in his eyes, the way he held her so gently, that made the words come out easier. 

That, and the faint buzz still humming through her system from the drinks she had earlier.

“I understand. And I’m so, so sorry. I really mean that, Aurora. Hurting you was never my intention. If there’s anything I can do to make things between us okay again. . . I want to try. So long as you’ll let me, of course.”

He was being open with her. And genuine.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

Harry let out a breath of relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He reached for her other hand, tentative at first. When she didn’t pull away, he laced his fingers through hers and gently led her toward the kitchen barstool. She perched on the edge, nerves fluttering in her chest as he took the seat beside her. Her mind was racing — not just with what he might say, but with where it all might lead.

“I’m just going to be honest.” Harry said, his voice steady but his eyes searching hers.

“That’s all I want.”

He took a breath. One hand remained clasped in hers, the other resting on the counter like it was keeping him grounded. “The first time I saw you — in that coffee shop — you completely took my breath away. I know that sounds cliche, but it’s the truth. You turned around, and I just — my mind went blank. I’ve never been that speechless in my life. Do you remember? You made a comment about the bundt cake, and I took a long time to respond.”

His gaze was so intense that she had to look away, heat rushing to her cheeks. It was one thing to know that someone found you attractive, but entirely another to hear them say it out loud.

“I stepped aside, planning to ask for your number after you ordered,” he continued. “But you never turned back around. I figured you didn’t want to be bothered, so I let it go. I was nervous and over-thought the whole thing. I normally don’t, but with you. . .”

She looked up, heart pounding. “I didn’t turn around because you made me nervous! It was this weird mix of wanting you to talk to me, and also wanting to sprint out the door.”

A soft curl slipped across her face, and Harry brushed it aside, laughing under his breath. “If someone had told me that four months ago, I wouldn’t have believed it. But now? I get it. Completely.”

So much had changed since that day in August.

“I couldn’t get you out of my head,” he said. “The whole morning, I kept thinking about you. And then I saw you again — but this time, you weren’t just a stranger. You were Charlotte’s friend.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, waiting for him to continue.

“I would be lying if I said I tried to fight how I felt. Because the truth is — I didn’t. From the very beginning, I knew something had shifted in me. Sure, part of it was physical — I mean, how could it not be? Look at you.”

“But the more I got to know you, the worse it got. Or better. I still don’t know which.” He let his words hang between them before continuing. “You were — are — kind, sharp, thoughtful. There’s a lightness to you, Aurora. And it’s impossible not to be drawn in by it.”

Harry reached out, gently cupping her chin, and the tenderness in his touch sent a ripple of goosebumps down her spine. His thumb brushed across her cheek, light as a whisper, and her heart stuttered.

“I meant it when I said that you’re precious to me.”

She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to kiss him breathless — but she didn’t want him to stop talking either. Every word he gave her peeled back a layer she had tried so hard to keep hidden from the rest of the world.

“When I’m not with you, I’m wishing that I was. And when we leave each other, all I can think about is the next time I’ll get to see you again.” His eyes shifted down to their entwined hands as if searching for the right words. “I care for you deeply, Aurora, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn’t. I’ve been holding back because I know how complicated this is, and I’ve just been trying to protect you. And Charlotte. But I don’t know how to do that without losing this. Without losing you.”

He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. They stayed there for a while, still and quiet, breathing in sync. 

When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to meet her eyes.

“Do you remember the first thing I ever said to you?” A small, wistful smile played on his lips. “It was ‘whatever you say.’ I didn’t realize it at the time, but that’s the truth of it. It’s whatever you say, Aurora. Always has been. If this is too much, if you want me to walk away, I will. It’ll break something in me, but I’ll do it.”

He held his breath, waiting. Hoping.

“And if I don’t want you to walk away?”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

It was a promise.

She launched forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in the crook of it. He smelled warm and comforting — like home. 

Like someone she could come home to.

“That’s all I want, Harry.”

He pulled her in tighter, swaying her gently, like he needed to feel every inch of her against him. She let herself melt into it, consumed in the best way possible.

Then she pulled back just enough to see him again.

His gaze burned into her. She felt it — matched it — the hunger that had simmered between them for months, now breaking through the cracks of restraint.

“Does this mean I can kiss you again?” He asked, voice low and teasing.

Had she really scolded him that harshly?

She tilted her head, playing coy despite the fire building inside her. “You’re still talking?”

That earned her a quiet laugh — deep and breathless — before he finally closed the space between them and kissed her. It started slow, tender, like he was savoring the feeling of her lips against his once more.

But that tenderness didn’t last very long.

The kiss turned molten in seconds, all reverence slipping away. It deepend with every breath,

every tilt of her mouth beneath his, months of desire and frustration unraveling between them. She clung to his shirt, needing to feel more. He kissed her like he couldn’t get enough, like he wouldn’t stop unless she made him. 

And she had no intention of stopping him.

His hands came up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing her skin with aching tenderness as he kissed her like she was a secret he wasn’t ready to give up. When their mouths parted, a soft, helpless sound broke free from her. His breath lingered at her cheek before he pressed another kiss to the corner of her lips, trailing a slow, deliberate path along her jaw. She trembled when he reached her neck, the heat of his mouth searing through her like a promise.

“And here?” 

She nodded, barely able to breathe, her head falling back slightly to give him more.

He smiled against her skin, then latched onto a tender spot just beneath her jaw, sucking gently until her knees weakened. A moan slipped from her lips, quiet and raw.

Then he bit her — light, teasing — and it unraveled her.

Her fingers wove through his hair, reluctant to let him go as he eased back to look at her. His hand lingered at her neck, thumb trailing softly over the place where his mouth had been. His eyes locked on hers, open and searching, like he was trying to memorize her.

“Where else can I kiss you?”

There was no misinterpreting the way he looked at her.

He would follow her lead — wherever it went.

And God, she couldn’t wait to take him there.

Part Sixteen

Tag List (thank you all for tuning in - please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this list):

She groaned and set a book (this time on a shelf, where it belonged) with an unintentional thud. It wasn’t just mortifying — it was wrong. She owed it to Charlotte to bury her nefarious thoughts six feet under. 

Whatever had passed between her and Harry at the coffee shop, if anything at all, meant nothing. It was just a fluke. A misfire of neurons.

Her frown deepened as she stepped back to observe the shelf. The books were haphazardly arranged, disregarding her preferred order of genre first, last name second. With a sharp exhale, she pulled them all down and started over.

By the time she finished, her stomach growled in protest. In her unusual state of distress, she had forgotten to eat lunch. Hiding away like this suddenly felt melodramatic, even for her. Enough was enough.

Aurora reached for the door handle, opened it. . . and walked straight into a solid chest. She barely had time to stumble back before a pair of strong hands reached out and steadied her.

“Aurora, hey — sorry about that,” Harry said, his voice gentle with concern. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” she managed, blinking up at him. “Totally fine, no worries.”

Harry gave her a once-over, checking for any sign of injury, then smiled when he saw she was unharmed. Aurora found it difficult to ignore the way his hands remained on her, Harry’s touch a quiet current beneath her skin. 

“Guess that’s two for two today, huh?”

Her stomach flipped. He’s talking about the coffee shop. He’s going to bring it up and —

“First your record player, now you.” His grin widened, dimples on full display. “Starting to think I can’t help but orbit around you today.” 

He chuckled, and Aurora felt the corners of her lips twitch, too. It wasn’t just his words — it was the effortless way he delivered them, as if charm came as naturally to him as breathing.

Harry’s hands lingered a moment longer before he finally let go, stepping past her toward the record player in the corner. “Nice collection you’ve got here,” he mused, flipping through the vinyls. “Knew you had good taste when I walked in and heard Stevie. Mind if I take a look?”

Not at all. Take whatever you want — me included.

“Go ahead,” she said instead, keeping her voice steady. “And thanks. Are you into Fleetwood Mac?”

He glanced up, eyes glinting. “I’m into all kinds of things.”

Her breath hitched. A slow warmth crept up her neck, thoughts drifting precisely where she promised herself they wouldn’t, couldn’t go.

Harry, oblivious or simply unbothered, paused on a record. “Is this Californiacation?” He flipped it over, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. “This came out my freshman year of high school. Blew it out on cassette all four years.”

Aurora pressed her lips together. Californiacation was one of her favorite albums, and she knew it was released in 1999. 

Do not calculate his age. Do not.

“It’s a classic,” she answered lightly. “Can’t blame you.”

“No, you can’t.” He met her eyes, that teasing, familiar grin softening his features. “Really takes me back.”

Aurora swallowed, forcing herself to break eye contact. “So, uh,” she began, desperate for a shift in focus. “Where’s Charlotte?”

Harry leaned against the wall, crossing his arms with an amused smirk. “Sleeping. Apparently, watching me build her furniture is exhausting work.”

She laughed.

Classic Char.

Aurora could picture it now: Charlotte hovering nearby, doling out unsolicited instructions, more of a distraction than a helper. Later, she’d send him a perfectly crafted thank-you message — sincere, thoughtful, and utterly convinced she’d been supportive.

“Well, lucky her,” Aurora said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I wish I had you helping me build my stuff, too.”

Harry straightened, his eyebrows rising. “Do you need help with something?”

“Oh, no,” Aurora said quickly, embarrassment flashing across her face. “I didn’t mean —”

“Aurora.” His voice was calm but insistent. “If you need help, just ask. That’s what I’m here for.”

There was something in the way Harry spoke — steady, unwavering — like he was someone who kept every promise.

And maybe even every threat.

“Well. . .” Aurora hesitated, glancing toward the box by the TV. “There is one thing.”

An hour later, the dimly lit living room hummed with quiet laughter and the soft scrape of furniture parts against the floor. Aurora sat cross-legged on the couch, carefully assembling a drawer, while Harry stretched out on the hardwood, smoothly working on the base of her desk.

Despite the easy rhythm of their conversation, Aurora felt Monday looming at the edges of her thoughts. She was here, physically engaged in the task at hand, yet Aurora’s mind drifted — deeper and deeper — until she could no longer ignore the familiar weight pressing down on her.

Imposter syndrome had always been a quiet but persistent shadow, trailing her through every important milestone. Every moment of success felt borrowed, as if it belonged to someone else and not her. That relentless inner voice dissected her past with surgical precision, magnifying even the smallest mistakes into towering failures.

She thought of her childhood – of constant moves that uprooted Aurora’s life every few years, friendships left half-formed, relationships fragile. School had been her anchor, the one steady thing in an otherwise uncertain world. But the armor she built from academic success was heavy, and somewhere along the way, her self-worth became inextricably tied to achievement.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice broke through the spiral, soft and curious. “Where’d you go just now?”

Aurora blinked, startled back to the present. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ve been here, building this drawer.” She held it up as proof, her smile almost defensive. “See?”

Harry gave her a knowing look, his expression warm yet unwavering. “You were somewhere else. I saw it in your eyes.”

Aurora froze, caught off guard by his attentiveness. She hadn’t realized he’d been watching her so closely.

When she didn’t respond, he didn’t press. Instead, Harry shifted gears easily, allowing the moment to dissolve into something lighter. “Well, wherever you went, I hope it was less stressful than this IKEA nightmare.”

She let out a laugh, grateful for the change in topic. “Let’s just say this is the lesser of two evils.”

He tilted his head, studying her for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then he simply said, “I mean, I can see why you put this off. Tackling it alone would’ve been brutal.”

“Oh, definitely,” Aurora rolled her eyes. “I even thought about assembling it at my parents’ house and cramming it into my trunk, but there wasn’t enough room with all my other stuff.”

Harry nodded, focusing on attaching a leg to the desk’s base. “And where exactly is home for you?”

“New Mexico,” she replied, then hesitated. “Well, kind of.”

“Kind of?” He echoed, and if Aurora hadn’t been looking at him, she would have missed the way his nose scrunched in thought. It was so. . . cute, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe that was why she found it easy to keep going.

“My dad was in the military. We moved every two or three years, depending on where he was stationed — mostly all over the West. He was discharged four years ago, and my family moved to New Mexico. I’m pretty sure it’s the longest we’ve ever stayed anywhere.”

“I see.” Harry paused to look at her fully, his expression thoughtful. “That must have been tough on you.”

Aurora shrugged, absently fiddling with a screw. “It was fine, I guess.”

When she didn’t elaborate, Harry raised his eyebrows slightly, encouraging her to continue.

“I mean, it wasn’t terrible,” she admitted. “Frustrating, sure. Always being the new kid, feeling like the odd one out. But it wasn’t unbearable. Some people have it a lot worse.”

She hesitated, gauging his reaction. The conversation had drifted somewhere heavier, somewhere she wasn’t sure she wanted to go. But Harry seemed invested, like he truly cared about what she had to say.

Aurora wanted to feel his lightness again.

So, with a teasing smile, she added, “Although, it might’ve left me with a deep, abiding hatred of moving.”

He smiled, too. “It’s important to have stability while growing up. At any time, really, but especially as a child. Having a place to call home, roots to grow into. Sounds like you didn’t really get that chance.”

Aurora glanced down at the drawer in her hands, fingers slowing. No one had ever put it quite like that before.

“I guess not,” she murmured. “But you adapt, you know? You figure out how to make it work.”

“Of course,” Harry replied, his tone measured. “And you seem to be doing just fine at that. More than fine, really. Kids are resilient, but that doesn’t make certain things easy. Or fair.”

The weight of his words settled over them, and for the first time that evening, she was reminded of the years between them. There was something in Harry’s tone, something that carried experience — an understanding born from time and reflection.

Still, Harry didn’t let the mood press too hard. With a soft grin, he concluded, “And don’t worry, you’re not the odd one out. Moving’s awful for everyone.”

Aurora grinned in response, about to reply, when Charlotte’s tired “Hey, guys” interrupted the moment.

She turned and found Charlotte mid-yawn, rubbing her eyes. Upon making eye contact with them, Charlotte smiled and waved, as though her prolonged absence were perfectly normal. “Whatcha guys up to?”

“Oh, hey, sleepyhead,” Aurora  teased, gently poking her as Charlotte approached for a hug. She always found Charlotte’s affectionate nature to be sweet, instantly absolving her from any wrongdoings. 

“How did you sleep, darling?” Harry asked, his tone light.

“Just perfectly!” Charlotte declared, settling beside Aurora on the couch. “With my dad and Biggie here, how could I not?”

“Biggie?” Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing at Aurora for clarification.

She mouthed don’t ask, then turned to Charlotte. “Are those your pajamas?”

“Sure are.” Charlotte stretched out, casually draping her legs over Aurora’s lap.

Aurora shook her head, amused. “You look ready to go back to bed.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Charlotte quipped.

“You’ve been a tremendous help today, Char,” Harry said dryly, setting down his tools before rising from his position on the floor.

“Hey, to be fair, it’s that time of the month, and I’m very anemic. You can’t blame me for being  a sleepy girl.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, darling. Do you need me to pick up anything before I leave?”

Charlotte, now comfortably settled on the couch in her satin pink pajamas, waved him off. “Thanks, dad, but I should be fine. Plus, Aurora’s always been the mom of the group, so I’m sure whatever I might need, she has me covered.” She gave her a pointed look, which Aurora returned with a knowing nod.

“This is true,” Aurora confirmed.

Harry chuckled. “Right. Anyway, I’ve finished assembling the base and legs, so connecting the finishing pieces tomorrow should be easy enough.”

“Sounds great. Need anything for the road, Mr. Styles?” Aurora asked, carefully moving Charlotte’s legs off her lap.

“No, but maybe you can show me to the door, since my lovely daughter looks ready to pass out again.”

They both glanced at Charlotte, who had already closed her eyes and murmured a faint, “Bye, see you later,” in response.

Classic Char.

Aurora shook her head before leading Harry to the door. As he retrieved his shoes and wallet, an unexpected pang of reluctance tightened in her chest. Aurora had enjoyed his company more than she anticipated and found herself wishing he could stay longer.

“Thank you for all your help today, Mr. Styles,” Aurora said, her voice sincere. “And, no worries about the desk — I should be able to take it from here.”

Harry raised a hand, gently dismissing her offer. “Ah, please. It was no problem. I’ll take care of the rest tomorrow.” He met her gaze, his expression warm. “Besides, I should be the one thanking you. This is Charlotte’s first time truly living on her own, and I won’t lie, I was nervous. For reasons I’m sure you can understand.”

They both shared a knowing laugh.

“But, knowing she has you around puts me at ease,” he added softly.

Her smile widened. “She’s in good hands, I promise.”

“I know she is,” Harry replied, his voice full of quiet certainty.

They stood there for a moment, enjoying a comfortable silence. Neither of them made a move to part ways just yet.

Seeking to prolong the moment, Aurora asked, “Are you driving all the way back home now? It’s about an hour and a half away, right?”

“It is, but I won’t be heading back tonight,” Harry answered. “With it being the tailend of rush hour, traffic would be a nightmare. I’ve booked a hotel about ten minutes away for the weekend, so I’ll be here nice and early tomorrow.”

Aurora nodded. “I have a feeling your definition of ‘bright and early’ differs significantly from Charlotte’s.”

Harry smiled. “I assure you, she didn’t inherit that trait from me.”

The look on his face turned distant for a moment, a small flicker of something bittersweet crossing Harry’s features. It passed quickly, and he refocused on Aurora. “It was truly a pleasure meeting you today, Aurora.”

“Likewise, Mr. Styles,” she replied softly.

They stood there, eyes locked, an unspoken understanding passing between them. The seconds stretched, but the silence was far from uncomfortable; it hummed with muted possibilities — possibilities neither of them could ever act upon.

After a final moment, Harry cleared his throat, a strong (and soft) hand moving toward the doorknob.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he said, his voice a soft farewell.

With one last glance, he stepped out into the hallway. As the door closed behind him, Aurora leaned against it, sighing.

Aurora knew that if she thought of him, she most certainly would.

Part Four

She also silently cursed herself for hauling such an oversized bag on what was meant to be a simple outing. Now, rummaging for her keys felt like a dive into a bottomless pit.

“Mornin’, future roomie!” chirped a familiar voice.

Aurora’s lips curved into a smile. “Would’ve been current roomie if you weren’t late,” she replied. “And morning to you, too.”

“Psh, ten o’clock, eleven o’clock — who’s keeping track?”

“ — I am.”

“Details, details,” Charlotte quipped. “The point is, we’re going to be roomies soon!”

Aurora rolled her eyes in amusement. “How soon, exactly?”

“Hmm,” Charlotte paused, as if consulting the stars. “GPS says. . . eighteen minutes. So if I don’t get lost, eighteen minutes.”

“Thirty, then.”

“Fair.”

At last, Aurora’s fingers brushed against her keys. She fished them out, unlocked the entrance door, and stepped into the narrow hallway. Their apartment was on the third floor of a modest walk-up, which meant no elevator — just three flights of stairs standing between her and home.

Which was fine. . . for now.

She had promised to be more intentional with health and fitness while working on her doctorate. It seemed hypocritical not to, given her field. Three flights of stairs each day would be a reasonable start, though it was only a matter of time until she grew tired of it altogether.

By the time Aurora reached the front door, her thighs burned and she was panting heavily. Charlotte didn’t seem to notice, fully immersed in her story about a boy she had reconnected with over the summer. Aurora could only half-listen, too winded to catch every word.

“Wait,” Charlotte piped, “is that Stevie?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Aurora said. “I set up my record player earlier and forgot to turn it off before I went out.”

“Ooh, look at you, you old scoundrel. I always knew you had it in you. Go anywhere fun?”

“Charlotte, it’s not even noon yet.”

“And?”

“And, the only reasonable thing to be doing at this hour is getting coffee. Which I did. At this place called Cozy’s. You’ll probably pass it on your way here.”

“Cozy’s, huh? Sounds like a euphemism for —”

“Charlotte.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Charlotte teased. “How’s the coffee, then?”

“Pretty good,” Aurora replied, taking another sip of her iced latte. Then, after a beat, “Actually, something. . . interesting sort of happened. There was this really cute guy.”

“Well, don’t just leave me hanging!” Charlotte exclaimed dramatically. “Was there a vibe? Did he ask for your number? Oh my God, you asked for his —”

“Relax,” Aurora laughed. “It was nothing big. We’ll catch up when you get here.”

“Fine, fine,” Charlotte huffed. “See you in ten.”

“Twenty.”

“Exactly. Love you, bye!”

“Love you, too. Drive safe.”

Aurora hung up the phone and turned her attention to tidying up. The main space was mostly in order, save for a few stray boxes in the living room. One of them contained her desk, which she had attempted — unsuccessfully — to assemble earlier. The instructions had been so confusing that she shoved the pieces back into the box, promising herself to tackle it another day.

She moved the box against the wall and set about preparing a simple charcuterie board. It was by no means fancy, but satisfying all the same. She hoped Charlotte, and her dad (who was helping with the move), would appreciate the simple gesture.

Moving is hard and hungry work, she thought, nibbling on a wedge of gouda.

Twenty-five minutes later — but who was counting? — a loud noise echoed at the door, three sharp raps. Aurora smiled, instantly recognizing Charlotte’s signature knock.

She flung the door open just as Charlotte lunged forward, wrapping her in a bear hug. “Biggie!”

“Are we still using that nickname?” Aurora staggered back, laughing. “I thought you’d drop it once you graduated.”

“Never.” Charlotte answered proudly.

Once she was released, Aurora gave Charlotte a tour of the apartment. Charlotte oohed and ahhed at all the right moments, finally declaring, “This looks even better in person.”

The tour ended in the kitchen, as good things often do, where Charlotte immediately honed in on the charcuterie board. She grabbed a grape and plopped it into her mouth. “This is so cute,” she said between bites. “I love when you do stuff like this. Who even has the energy to make mini salami vaginas?”

Aurora snorted. “They’re roses!”

“Same thing.”

It wasn’t until Charlotte reached for another grape with the casual ease of someone not in the middle of a move that Aurora realized something was amiss. “Wait,” she said. “Where’s your stuff?”

Charlotte pointed to her Dior saddle bag as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Uh, right here?”

“No, Char.” Aurora sighed. “Your moving boxes? Suitcases?”

“Oh, that!” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “My dad should be bringing up the first load soon. Then I’ll go back down with him for the rest.”

Classic Char.

Aurora had a feeling she would be thinking that phrase a lot over the next three years. Charlotte’s philosophy was “it’ll work out,” while Aurora’s was built on lists, backup plans, and the occasional overthinking spiral. But that was their dynamic.

Chaos met order.

Grapes met charcuterie.

And somehow, it all just worked.

“Honestly, he’s been incredible,” Charlotte grinned as she finished recounting her story about Bennett. Never one to stay with someone for long — always finding some fatal flaw — but this time, she seemed genuinely invested. “We haven’t made anything official yet, but I could see things heading that way soon.”

Aurora easily mirrored her smile, pouring lemonade into two glasses. “That’s incredible, Char.” She handed one to Charlotte, then leaned against the counter. “You said he lives one town over from where you grew up. So, what, like an hour and a half away from here?”

“Exactly,” Charlotte replied, though her excitement dimmed just a little. “You don’t think that’s too far, right? I mean, would that be considered long-distance?”

Aurora paused, choosing her words carefully. “I wouldn’t call it long-distance, per se. An hour and a half isn’t that bad.” But when the furrow on Charlotte’s brow deepened, she stepped closer. “Think of it this way: an hour and a half is still less time than Taylor Swift’s last album.”

Charlotte, a die-hard Swiftie, couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s true. But wait — which one? The Tortured Poets Department or The Tortured Poets Department Anthology?”

“There’s two?” Aurora blinked, incredulous.

Before Charlotte could answer, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by a soft thud and a muttered, “Shit.” Stevie Nicks’ voice skipped, and Aurora winced. 

That was definitely her record player. 

Charlotte gave Aurora an apologetic look and disappeared toward the door. Aurora busied herself rearranging a stack of coasters but paused when Charlotte returned, trailing behind someone carrying a moving box. Her eyes landed on his shoes — surprisingly on trend for a dad — before following the line of his broad shoulders and strong jaw.

Fuck.

It was him.

Coffee shop cutie.

Aurora had gone unnoticed until his gaze, previously locked in a disapproving look at Charlotte — no doubt a consequence of carrying all her things while she only held a purse — shifted toward her. In that moment, a flicker of recognition lit his eyes, disarming him (and her) before he masked it with a neutral expression. 

Any thoughts lingering behind that look remained unexpressed as he strode across the room with an easy confidence, stopping just in front of her.

Oh, God.

A surge of panic coursed through her, pulse pounding as she silently prayed to be swallowed whole by the ground.

“Hi,” he said, extending a hand. His voice was calm, measured. “I’m Harry, Charlotte’s dad. It’s nice to meet you.”

She hesitated for only a second before sliding her hand into his. Harry’s handshake was firm, commanding, and the jolt it sent through Aurora’s body almost short-circuited her brain.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Styles,” she managed, her voice barely audible.

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched, and for a split second — so quick she almost missed it — his green eyes darkened, as though her words had struck something deep inside him.

“Anyway,” Charlotte said, oblivious to the tension. “Aurora was just about to tell me about this guy she met at the coffee shop today. Super cute, apparently.”

Please, God.

Aurora’s brain scrambled for a way out, grasping at the opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere. Maybe she could pass it off as a different coffee shop, a separate encounter —

“Oh?” Harry’s deep voice cut through her thoughts, laced with amusement. A glint of mischief shone behind those almond-shaped eyes, though his focus on her never wavered. “What coffee shop was this?”

Before she could deflect, Charlotte chimed in. “Cozy’s, right?”

Harry’s grin deepened as he glanced at Charlotte, keeping his tone casual. “There’s one near us, isn’t there?”

“Hmm, not sure,” Charlotte mumbled, too preoccupied looking through one of the bags Harry brought in to give it much thought. 

“They make an excellent olive oil bundt cake,” Harry continued, turning back to Aurora with a look that sent her stomach plummeting. “Pairs perfectly with their lattes.”

Aurora wasn’t religious, but if the clouds opened up and struck her down right then, she’d call it mercy.

Not with Harry’s mouth branding a trail of heat down her neck, his hands taking their time as they claimed every inch of her — like she was already his, and always had been. 

Tonight, her favorite version of Harry was the determined one. 

The one who moved with intention. 

The one who knew exactly what he was doing.

Especially when it pertained to her.

He had lifted her off the barstool without missing a step, carrying her through the house like a man possessed — kissing the bow in her mouth, the sensitive curve of her throat — as if even the smallest distance between them was unbearable.

Now she lay beneath him, tangled in her sheets and in him; hair fanned across the pillow, chest rising and falling, lips parted and kiss-bruised. Her skin incinerated with the aftershock of his touch, every nerve alive. And when Aurora looked down, what she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

Harry knelt between her legs, just staring. 

His pupils were blown wide, darkened by a slow, burning heat. She traced the sharp green in his eyes, drawn in by the way they held her — reverent and ravenous — like he wanted to worship and ruin her all at once.

And in them, she saw every unspoken promise, every threat, and believed them all.

A fragile sound left her, breaking their spell. 

He was on her at once, his mouth brushing over her skin, voice a rasp against her cheek.

“Do you —” kiss, “have any idea —” kiss, “what you do to me?”

Aurora shivered as his mouth drifted lower, curls brushing against her collarbone and hands teasing the edge of her neckline. She momentarily praised her decision to wear something more daring tonight, but that thought dissolved the moment Harry’s teeth grazed along her skin — and then slid his large hands up to cup her breasts through the tight corset.

“You were trying to kill me, wearing this. Knowing every set of eyes would be on you.”

A breathless laugh escaped her as she drank in his words, this moment. She was starting to get a kick out of this raw, possessive side that only surfaced when no one else was around.

“Maybe. But I only wanted you to take it off.”

“That’s right,” he nipped at her skin and she whimpered. “Only me.”

“Only you.”

Harry made quick work of her corset, his fingers confident — efficient, even. Likely a personal best, not that Aurora was in any state to tease (or scold) him for it. She had made the executive decision to forgo a bra, and the second he realized, something in his expression darkened. His eyes sparkled with wicked intent before he pounced over her again, this time taking a nipple into his mouth.

There were moments when she felt self-conscious about her breasts — wishing they were just a little fuller — but wrapped in the way he touched her now, she had never felt more desired. The way his lips moved like a prayer, savoring every inch of her — licking, sucking, gently biting — made her feel like she was made for him, like he couldn’t possibly get enough of her. When his lips left one breast, his warm hand took over, claiming her as his own.

She gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and he responded with a rough buck of his hips against hers.

“Fucking hell, kitten,” Harry groaned, the endearment rising from his throat like it physically pained him. “You’re even more beautiful than I ever let myself imagine.”

Then he ever let himself imagine? 

The thought struck her like a spark, igniting something deep within. Had he really conjured her up the way she had him, again and again, in the hush of intimate, depraved moments she had never dared speak aloud?

The way his mouth roamed hungrily over her skin left no room for doubt.

“You really have no idea, do you? How many nights I’ve laid awake, aching — so hard it would hurt — fisting myself to the thought of you.” His voice was a low growl, thick with lust. “Wishing it was your hand instead. Your mouth. Your cunt.”

His lips moved lower — rougher now, almost punishing. “Want to hear something filthy?”

She nodded without hesitation, unashamed.

Harry’s smile turned wolfish at her eagerness and he continued. “Sometimes I would even do it here. Touched myself in the room you’re now sleeping in.” He paused, allowing his words to settle between them. 

Then, in a whisper, “When Charlotte would visit, I’d have to sneak away — find a place quiet enough so she wouldn’t hear me coming undone over her best friend.”

It was obscene how much his words turned her on. The filthy casualness of them sent heat curling low in her belly, dark and undeniable. As Harry dragged her zipper down with slow, teasing hands, a single thought flickered through Aurora’s mind: she was going straight to hell for this. 

But then he looked at her with that primal, sensual intensity, and all at once, damnation felt like a small price to pay. Anyone else in her position would understand.

They would risk it all, too.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, voice rough with need as his finger traced slowly over the damp fabric between her thighs, pressing just hard enough to pull a gasp from her lips. He paused at her entrance, the heat of his touch making her pulse there. “Filthy little thing. You love this, don’t you? Bet you’d let me do anything I wanted to you.”

“And you’re wearing too much.” She pushed up from where she was laying down, fingers working quickly to peel his shirt away. That first touch was gasoline to the fire already smoldering between them.

He was a masterpiece of strength and precision; all carved lines and taut muscle, shadows catching on every ridge. Her eyes lingered on the inked butterfly spread across his torso, then traced lower — following the soft trail of hair that disappeared beneath his waistband — right to the thick, unmistakable bulge pressing against his briefs.

She loved how perfectly they fit together — skin to skin, bare chests pressed close, heartbeats pounding in tandem. Harry had been ready to devour her, but the moment she melted into his arms, he slowed, as if he instinctively knew what she needed: connection as much as desire.

His arms tightened around her waist, holding her exactly where he wanted her. Their mouths moved in sync, a kiss that was deep as it was messy. Everything about this — his touch, his breath, the way he tasted — was overwhelming her senses in the most intoxicating way.

Harry eased back just slightly, resting his forehead against hers as they breathed each other in for an intimate moment. Aurora glanced down between them, at where they were pressed against each other, and felt her cheeks flush deeper. Her chest rose and fell, breasts heavy and aching from his attention. A soft sheen of sweat clung to their skin, catching the moonlight that slipped through the curtains in a silvery glow. His hand slowly drifted along her spine; a soothing, possessive stroke that made her eyes flutter shut. 

He was savoring this, too. She could feel it.

And then she saw the marks — faint bruises on her hips, his neck. Red where nails had dug, teeth had scraped. Evidence of everything only they had given each other. She would have to cover them tomorrow, she knew. Paint over the truth of this with concealer and a forced smile. It would hurt her deeply, more than it probably should, because the deranged truth was that she wanted to wear them proudly — every mark, every bruise. 

She wanted the whole world to know who she belonged to.

Him.

God, she wanted him.

A flood of feeling tore through her as she deepened the kiss. Desire rose first, raw and aching, fueled by the low sounds Harry let slip against her mouth. The need to have him, to feel every part of him, pulsed through her like electricity.

But as his hands gently pressed her back into the pillows, his gaze locked on hers and something else stirred just beneath the heat. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. His eyes asked the question — are you sure? — and somehow she understood it, the way she always had with him.

And there it was. The feeling that had always lingered beneath the want.

Love. 

Real and full and impossible to ignore.

She hadn’t let herself face it before, but now it gripped her chest and refused to let go.

“Harry. . .” she breathed, voice cracking open.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to her lips. “I feel it too.”

That undid her.

Aurora wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him down until he was flush against her, their mouths moving over each other in something frantic and tender all at once. No matter how many times they would kiss tonight, it would never be enough. She would never, could never, get enough of him.

Harry ground his hips against hers, the friction deliciously cruel, then slid his hand back down to her wet folds. He moaned into her mouth as his fingers found her again, slick and throbbing, and slowly pulled her panties the rest of the way down. She lifted her hips without a second thought, needing him too badly to care about anything else.

His fingers caressed along her slit with agonizing leisure, stroking her open and smearing her arousal with every teasing pass. With a sinful grin, he brought his coated fingers up between them, letting her see. 

“Look at this,” he teased. “You’re dripping for me, baby. This what I do to you? Get you this wet just from kissing you?”

A choked whimper escaped her lips, her body arching instinctively toward his. Now wasn’t the time for games — she was seconds away from begging.

“Yes, Harry,” she moaned. “Touch me, please, I need you.”

“I already am, kitten.”

Before she could respond, his hand slid back down, deceptively gentle — until he landed a sharp slap between her thighs. The sudden friction against her clit made her gasp, her whole body jolting as her pussy throbbed in response. 

She cried out, the pleasure rolling through her in hot waves. “Oh my God, Harry!”

“Don’t you feel me?” His fingers traced through her lips, slow and unrelenting. “Didn’t you say I make you feel good?”

“You do — agh — I just need more.”

“Good.” He stroked over her again, this time grazing her clit with just enough pressure to make her hips buck again. But then he stopped, voice dropping with it. “Then don’t disrespect me by acting like I’m not already giving it to you.”

Fuck.

He had never spoken to her like that, never taken on this commanding tone. But God, did it set her on fire. Harry had always been gentle, careful. . . but this edge? This control? She wanted to chase it.

With a dangerous glint in her eye, Aurora tilted her head and murmured, “I mean. . . all this touching and you still haven’t fucked me yet.”

A challenge.

She watched the flare of heat in his eyes — and knew she would get exactly what she asked for, and then some.

Harry smirked, catching on to her little game. “Patience is a virtue, kitten.”

Another sharp slap landed against her soaked cunt — harder this time, more deliberate — and she nearly came undone, her body jerking in response, a strangled moan catching in her throat. Her clit throbbed, hypersensitive, and he rewarded her with a slow, almost lazy stroke of his finger across it, just enough to tease. The contrast — his callused heat, the cool brush of his rings against her flushed skin — was maddening. She couldn’t stop trembling beneath him.

“. . . How many?”

Her head lolled slightly. “W-what?”

“Pay attention, Aurora.” His voice was stern, but that menacing curl of his lips gave him away. He loved watching her fall apart, loved that he was the one doing it to her. “I asked how many nights you went to bed with your ego bruised.”

“What are you talking about?”

His fingers left her clit and the sudden absence made her whimper. Before the sound had even faded, that same hand was at her throat — light, possessive, and slick with her arousal. He wrapped his fingers around the base of her neck, thumb resting just below her jaw, a gentle reminder of who was in control. Then he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Earlier, you said you spent nights here with your ego bruised. Frustrated. Unsatisfied.” His voice was velvet over steel. “How many?”

He shifted again, curls brushing against her cheek as he dragged his tongue slowly across the column of her neck — tasting her on her own skin. The sheer filth of it made her moan, hips rocking up against his aching hardness that rested between them. He was holding back, she could feel it in the way his whole body tensed.

Aurora could barely breathe. “S-since I’ve been here? Two. . . two nights.”

“Then you’ll come twice.”

He slid his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean of her before pulling them out. Then, without warning, he plunged them inside her, slow but deep, filling her so thoroughly she cried out. Her back arched, but he firmly pressed her back down with his other hand.

“You’ll take me,” he growled, eyes locked on hers.

He moved inside her with long, pleasureful strokes, curling his fingers just so — and it was sinful, the way her body reacted, how easily she opened for him. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel once it was his cock, and not his fingers, stretching her open instead. When his thumb found her clit and began those slow, devastating circles, her body writhed beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

His mouth returned to her breasts with a kind of filthy devotion, lavishing the tender curves with open-mouthed kisses before scraping his teeth over her swollen nipples. He tugged with just enough force to make her cry out, then paused to watch — eyes dark with hunger — as the mocha peaks bounced back into place. 

Aurora was teetering on the edge. Every nerve in her body reverberated, stretched thin with pleasure. The steady thrust of his fingers, the searing heat of his mouth, the scent of sex and sweat clinging to their skin — it was too much and not nearly enough — her body strung tight and aching for release.

“Harry,” she breathed, “I’m — I’m so close.”

As if the sound of her unraveling flipped a switch inside him, something primal took over.

He plunged deeper, never once breaking his pace. His mouth crashed over hers, devouring her with breathless urgency — all teeth and tongue. She kissed him back just as fiercely, hips rising to meet the relentless thrust of his fingers, moans tangling like their bodies in the dark.

“H-Harry —”

“I’m right here, sweetheart,”  he whispered against her lips. “Always right here.”

That unraveled her.

Her orgasm tore through her — a blinding wave that stole her breath and curled her toes. Her head tipped back as a cry escaped her throat, eyes shut tight as her body clenched around his hand. And still, he didn’t stop — just slowed his movements, coaxing every last tremor from her with whispered praise against her damp skin, anchoring her as she came undone. Stars burst behind her eyelids, and she let herself fall, completely his.

And then he was gone.

Just for a moment — before reappearing lower.

Much lower.

His mouth found her again, this time between her thighs, and the contact was so sudden, so devastating, she let out a gasp in surprise. Her hands flew into his hair, fingers trembling as they sank into the dark curls. She didn’t know whether she meant to push him away or drag him deeper — all she knew was that she needed to hold on.

“Harry, I-I don’t know if I can —”

“You can,” he groaned, voice thick with promise. “You can and you will.”

He began with delicate kisses — slow, savoring — as if tasting something rare, something forbidden. His nose and lips grazed her soaked folds with worshipful care, nuzzling into her like she was his to feast upon. 

“So fucking pretty,” he breathed, gaze never leaving hers. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Then he kissed her deeper, and his tongue dragged up her slit in one long, aching stroke that made her moan — legs trembling, body arching.

“Mmfh, Harry —”

“Can’t believe this is all mine,” he ignored her plea in favor of grazing his tongue just where she needed it most. “Only mine. Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

And ruin her he did.

His tongue slid deep inside her, every stroke purposeful, dragging slow and decadent along her walls. Velvet-slick and devastatingly precise, he worked her with practiced cruelty, each flick pulling her closer to the edge. He moved like a man who had studied her, memorized her, and now intended to savor the process of unraveling her completely.

“I need you —” she whimpered, one hand fisting in his hair, the other sliding up her own body to squeeze her breast, thumb circling her nipple, “— inside me, now.”

Between her thighs, he looked up — eyes feral, blown wide with hunger — and released a guttural sound at the sight of her. She was a vision of chaos and need, and he was completely undone by it.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “If you could see yourself right now. . . my filthy, gorgeous girl. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Want me to fill this tight little cunt?”

“Y-yes —” She barely got the word out, voice trembling.

“Tell me something, kitten,” he murmured, breath ghosting over her swollen flesh. “What makes you think you’ve earned daddy’s cock?”

Then came his bite — sharp and deliberate — and it lit her nerves on fire. She arched off the bed with a strangled gasp, the sound ripped straight from somewhere deep and helpless.

“FUCK!”

He let out a low wicked laugh, the sound rumbling through her like thunder. He loved this. Every whimper she gave, every twitch, every shattered sound. And he wasn’t done. Not even close.

But then —

A faint click.

Everything stilled. His laughter faded mid-breath, and the heat between them froze, suspended like smoke in the air. The outside world crept in through the silence, threatening to shatter the bubble they had built. From beyond the door, Aurora heard Charlotte’s voice. It was gentle and lilting, clearly in shush-mode. A low, masculine murmur followed. Ben. 

Footsteps padded toward the kitchen, and a sliver of warm light spilled beneath the doorframe, stretching across the bedroom floor like a spotlight cast directly on their sin.

She twisted toward Harry, panic flaring in her chest — and of course, he was already watching her. 

But he appeared to be unbothered. 

Infuriatingly smug. 

His eyes glittered like they belonged to a teenager caught in the act, high on the danger of it all. The bastard was biting his bottom lip, barely containing his laughter.

Aurora slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the startled sound rising in her throat. The absurdity of it all — of them, tangled in sheets while Charlotte stood just feet away — should have ruined the moment. 

Instead, it ignited something wicked in her.

In both of them.

When her muffled giggle slipped free, Harry finally broke, burying his face in her thigh as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. His curls grazed her skin, brushing right where she was still aching for him.

And just like that, the heat between her legs flared back to life.

Her laughter caught in her throat, replaced by a low, needy moan. Because while the moment was absurd, her desire was still very real. Still pulsing between her legs like a live wire, especially when his warm breath ghosted over her skin.

Harry looked up then, and gone was the teasing gleam in his eye — replaced by something darker, more feral. 

“Harry —” 

But his hands caught her — firm, possessive — and spread her thighs with ease.

“You can’t,” she hissed.

“But I already am.” He leaned in, trailing slow, lingering kisses up the inside of her thigh. “I told you I would give you two tonight, and I’m a man of my word.”

Her breath hitched the moment his mouth found her again, as if he had never left. His tongue moved with sinful precision, lips coaxing pleasure from her with devastating softness. In the distance, Charlotte’s voice drifted in from the kitchen, muffled but unmistakable. Aurora fought to think, to cling to reason. Hadn’t Charlotte said she would be staying out tonight? Then why the hell was she —

“Eyes on me,” Harry growled against her, punctuating the order with a sharp nip to her clit.

“Ah! —”

That sound ignited something deep in him. His hold on her waist tightened, locking her in place — and then he was on her, ravenous and unyielding, tongue plunging in and out of her like a man who hadn’t tasted anything in days.

“Oh, I think Aurora’s still awake. . .”

Fuck.

Footsteps padded closer. The chill of panic raced through her veins, clashing with the molten pleasure between her thighs. Her eyes flew to the door, heart slamming against her ribcage.

Harry didn’t flinch.

Didn’t lift his head.

Didn’t so much as pause.

He was buried in her like nothing else existed — like her pleasure was his only mission and his daughter on the other side of the wall was just white noise.

“Aurora?” Charlotte’s voice came, followed by a gentle knock. “You up?”

Her brain short-circuited.

Every nerve screamed don’t stop, but her thoughts were spiraling. The door was locked, thank God, but Charlotte didn’t seem to be going anywhere. She turned to Harry in desperation, searching for help (or mercy).

But he didn’t even glance up. 

Instead, he licked into her again, and then pulled back just enough to murmur, “Answer her.”

Aurora squeezed her eyes shut, inhaled a shaky breath, and lifted her head off the pillow. “Y-yes?”

“Oh,” Charlotte said softly, clearly surprised. “Did we wake you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Below, Harry feasted on her as if she were his last meal. His tongue curled deep, lips gentle and reverent, fingers gripping her thighs to keep her spread just for him. The fucking devil. She glanced down and shot him a murderous look, her glare burning with frustration, disbelief — and want.

He. Didn’t. Stop.

Of course he didn’t stop.

Charlotte was right outside the door, and Harry still had his tongue buried in her, sinning without hesitation. But if Harry was the devil, what did that make her? A willing disciple? A wicked muse? Or maybe just someone who got off on how dangerous this all was — how recklessly close they were to being caught in the flames.

“Sorry about that,” Charlotte murmured, voice muffled by the door. “Ben forgot his keys, and his roommate wasn’t home, so. . . but hey — how did it go with Kyle? He seemed really into you.”

Aurora opened her mouth, but before she could form a single word, Harry growled against her drenched folds — a sound dripping with dark, dangerous ownership. Then he pushed two fingers into her. 

The message was clear, even unspoken: mine.

There was no teasing left in him. No trace of playfulness. Only raw, unyielding hunger. He knew exactly what she craved — not tenderness, not a slow burn. She was already dripping for him, trembling on the edge and desperate to be pushed over. He sealed his mouth around her clit and sucked; firm and focused, until the pleasure inside her shattered. Her spine bowed off the bed, a broken gasp tearing from her lips before she could catch it.

“Fuck! —”

For a brief moment, there was only silence on the other side of the door. Aurora lay trembling, chest heaving, the aftershocks wracking through her. Shame licked at the edges of her pleasure, but it didn’t dull it. Not even a little.

Because whatever this was — dangerous, reckless, wrong — it felt too fucking good to stop.

Then, at last: Charlotte’s voice again, slicing through the afterglow. 

“Oh my God. You guys fucked, didn’t you?”

Classic Char.

Aurora felt Harry’s shoulders shake with laughter, his mouth still pressed to her sensitized center. She let out a sharp hiss, fingers diving into his hair to yank — and not gently. This was not the moment for cocky amusement.

Still, the groan he let out made her thighs clench all over again. He wasn’t teasing anymore. He was soothing her with every slow, reverent stroke of his tongue, like he couldn’t bear to part from her body just yet. And honestly, she didn’t want him to.

“Uh, no. I-I’ll tell you more tomorrow, Char.” Aurora called out, voice thin and frayed.

A pause. She could practically hear the smirk curling on her best friend’s lips. “Mhm. Wouldn’t be surprised if he was in there with you right now.”

Harry froze, mouth halting mid-kiss. Their eyes met — wide and horrified.

Fortunately, Charlotte burst into laughter. “Just kidding. Okay, well — goodnight, Biggie.”

As her and Ben’s footsteps disappeared up the stairs, Aurora finally let herself breathe, the tension draining from her limbs. Harry lifted his head and moved up, collapsing beside her, all that wild hunger now tamed into soft concern. 

“You okay, baby?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple — no longer the devil on his knees, but the man who worshipped her.

Aurora exhaled shakily, her pulse still racing. “That was. . .” She trailed off, searching for words. “A lot. You made me feel so good, Harry.”

His smile turned gentle, all mischief melting into something far deeper. She pulled him closer, one hand slipping around the back of his neck, the other drifting lower, fingertips tracing the hard line of him through his pants.

“And you?” She whispered, lips brushing his. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

Harry arched a brow, eyes gleaming with something dark and delicious. “Who says you didn’t?”

Right as her hand cupped the thick, wet outline in his pants, she felt her stomach tighten all over again. 

He’d come. 

Without her even properly touching him. Just from being between her legs, from tasting her.

“Besides,” he leaned in, “when I finally have you, I want us to be completely alone.”

Another shiver.

She watched him disappear into the bathroom, only to return moments later with a warm, damp cloth. He didn’t speak, just moved between her legs again with that same deliberate care. Every pass was gentle, like he was still touching something sacred.

Aurora reached for him, her fingers curling softly around his wrist. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

His eyes warmed, the sharp edges melting into something achingly tender. He turned her hand over and brought her wrist to his lips, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin there. “It was my pleasure,” he replied, voice like silk. “Truly.”

Then he rose, tossing the cloth into the trash bin — the same bin where the cotton pads he’d used to take off her makeup sat. He couldn’t stay. They both knew it. Not with Charlotte just upstairs. But the emptiness that crept in as he pulled away was impossible to ignore.

“Just remember,” he said over his shoulder, teasing, “that didn’t count as a substitute for peeing after.”

Aurora groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “God, I hate that you know that.”

His laugh — low and rough — warmed her from the inside out as he crossed the room again, bracing his arms on either side of her. 

Harry didn’t speak right away. He just looked at her, really looked at her, like she was something rare he had always been searching for.

Then he tipped her chin up and kissed her, soft and slow. 

“I think every moment before you,” he breathed out against her lips, “was meant to be practice, so that when you finally came along, I would know how to get it right.”

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Aurora laughed, shaking her head as she reached for a Q-tip on the vanity. She dipped it carefully into the micellar water, then handed it to Charlotte.

“Thanks,” Charlotte said, accepting it — though her gaze lingered a little too long on Aurora’s chest. “Are you on your period?”

“In a few days,” Aurora blinked. “Why?”

“Because the puppies are barking.”

“Oh my God, Char,” Aurora groaned, swatting her away as Charlotte started mock-barking. She hadn’t even thought about it, but it tracked. No wonder she’d been drowning in her feelings lately — her period was clearly on the horizon.

Still, that was only part of it. Deep down, she knew Harry’s effect on her wasn’t just hormonal. That man had a hold on her that wasn’t going to fade with the end of her follicular phase, but at least now she could blame some of the emotional chaos on biology.

Snapping herself back to the present with a sudden rush of focus, Aurora offered a warm smile. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Appreciate you!” Charlotte sang, finishing her makeup. “Hopefully Ben thinks so, too.”

Right on cue, her phone lit up on the bed, and his custom ringtone chimed.

“Speak of the devil,” she grinned.

Ben’s friends were nice.

She could tell, though, that everyone was hoping she would find one friend in particular — Kyle — especially nice. 

And to be fair, he was. He’d offered to grab her a drink shortly after they met, and now he was weaving through the crowd with two bottles of Stella in each hand, wearing a crooked smile like he knew just how charming he was. 

Cambridge Bar was nice, too, with a ground floor full of tables where people drank, laughed, and picked at shareable plates. The only downside was the noise — pulsing music from the upstairs dance floor spilled into the space below, making it nearly impossible to hold a proper conversation. 

(Aurora didn’t mind it, though. At least not all the way. It gave her an easy out — anytime Marilyn tried to spark a conversation, she would just shrug and point upwards, insinuating that she couldn’t hear.)

Eventually, the group gravitated toward a worn pool table tucked into the back corner. The space was quieter there, and a low hanging fixture bathed the table in soft amber light. The green felt was faded and the edges were chipped, but something about it felt cozy.

She hadn’t played in years, but the moment she lined up her shot, muscle memory kicked in. The satisfying crack of the cue ball sent her target gliding neatly into the corner pocket. She straightened up, a little proud of herself. 

Maybe she still had it.

Then she noticed Marilyn, standing a few feet away with a drink in hand, wearing a look that could sour milk. As soon as the ball dropped, she rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, vanishing into the crowd like a dark cloud pulled out to sea.

What the hell was she upset about now?

Before she had the chance to overthink it, Kyle reappeared beside her.

“Everything okay?” He asked, extending one of the Stella’s.

Aurora glanced at the bottle. She’d just finished a gin and tonic — not the smartest time to mix — but she doubted she would be here long enough for it to matter.

“All good,” she said, accepting it with a smile. “Thanks.”

They clinked bottles.

“Cheers.”

Kyle stood beside her, nursing his drink as he watched the rest of the group crowd around the pool table. His shoulder brushed lightly against hers, just enough for her to notice — and for him to pretend it was unintentional.

Aurora didn’t want to flirt. She just wanted to enjoy the night, maybe laugh a little, and feel like a normal person again. But even now, with Kyle right here — warm, interested, and objectively attractive — all she could think about was Harry.

Harry, who never pretended things were unintentional. 

She had spent the last few days tangled in confusion over his actions, but now she saw them for what they really were: deliberate, careful expressions of something he simply couldn’t say out loud at first. He had always been clear, just. . . cautious.

And sometimes, she hated that — like right now. 

Because what was the point of making his feelings clear if he was never going to do anything about them? He could have just let her yearn quietly. But instead, he decided to strike a match. And now her yearning didn’t just ache.

It burned.

“Don’t worry,” Aurora said, breaking out of her thoughts with a forced smile. “I played your shot while you were gone.” She nodded at the table, where a few of his friends were arguing over whose turn it was.

“Yeah, I watched you from the bar — you brought us closer to victory!” He shot her a boyish grin and lifted his free hand for a high five. “Be honest, do you play a lot? That was some pro-level stuff.” 

As he leaned in to say it, she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Uh, not really,” Aurora said with a small shake of her head, trying to play it cool. “I haven’t played in a while. School’s been busy, and before that, I was working a lot.”

She took an unconscious step back — and bumped into the table behind her with a soft thud.

Kyle immediately clocked it and froze. She could almost see the wheels turning as he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Oh, sorry, ‘s just loud in here.”

She shook her head, appreciating the shift. “Don’t worry about it — you’re right, it’s ridiculously loud.”

He gave a small, nervous smile and took a sip of his drink. “So, uh. . . you’re in the same DPT program as Marilyn, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

Her eyes widened the second she heard herself.

“Oh my God,” she said, bringing a hand to her face. “I meant the school part. Not Marilyn. That sounded — wow, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” Her mind was already spiraling: what if this somehow got back to Ben? Or worse, Charlotte? 

Great. Just one more thing to add to the ever-growing list of ways she was screwing things up for her.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, amused. “So. . . you do like working with Marilyn?”

Aurora opened her mouth, then hesitated. The beer dulled her tongue and made it harder to spin something diplomatic.

“It’s, uh, complicated.”

He titled his head with a smirk. “Complicated?”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. Was he fucking with her?

After a brief pause, Aurora finally settled for a simple, “We don’t talk much — we’re both pretty busy.”

Kyle nodded like he got it, his eyes still on hers. Then he leaned in just slightly, more friendly than flirty, and said:

“Lucky you.”

A quiet laugh escaped her before she could stop it. He was definitely fucking with her.

“That was a test,” he said, straightening with a grin.

“Oh?” She raised a brow, mirroring his tone. “And did I pass?”

“A+, no doubt about it. Charlotte was right — you’re sharp.”

Kyle was very nice.

Everything was going just fine, at least on the surface. The music was loud, the drinks were good, and the people she was with were even better (except for just one person, of course).

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. More specifically, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he was out tonight, too. With Katy.

Aurora still didn’t really know who Katy was. Just that she must have been perfect, because she could only imagine that Harry surrounded himself with like-minded people. People that were closer in age to him. Someone he could openly flirt with, smile at in public, touch without hesitation. The not-knowing made it even worse for her. The narrative she had created was spinning fast enough to drive her crazy, but she couldn’t hold herself back from it. 

Was Katy someone from his past, or someone new? 

Someone he could actually have?

Probably.

And what was Aurora to him, exactly? His feelings for her had been made clear, but that didn’t change the fact that she was a complication. There were glances that lingered too long and silences that said too much — and still, he refused to do a damn thing about it.

But the worst part was that he wouldn’t even try.

That was what cut the deepest: not being someone worth the risk.

It struck something raw in her — something old and bone-deep. That quiet, aching belief planted in every place she had never stayed long enough to call home. No matter how hard she tried, her actions would never be enough. 

Because she was always the one just passing through, instead of the one people built around.

The thought made her throat tighten, and she could have burst into tears. Right there, in the middle of the bar. She could have blamed it on hormones, too — her period was probably a day away — but she knew better. 

Ugh.

“Wanna dance?” She turned to Kyle, desperate for a distraction.

“Huh?” He leaned in, the music swallowing her words. “Didn’t catch that.”

“Dance!” She repeated over the beat. With a quick tug, she pulled him toward the stairs, flashing a grin over her shoulder at Charlotte. “Come with us!”

“Fina-fucking-ly!” Charlotte cheered, yanking Ben along with her. The rest of their group followed as they moved upstairs toward the dance floor.

If the music downstairs had been loud, upstairs was deafening.

A disco ball spun overhead, scattering fractured light across a sea of bodies in motion. The DJ’s booth thumped like a second heartbeat, and Aurora, hand-in-hand with Charlotte, pushed her way into the crowd — forgetting the boys entirely.

They danced. They laughed. Let the rhythm and alcohol do what they were meant to.

Aurora didn’t need another drink — she’d already hit that golden hum, the kind that dulled the edges and made everything feel far away, in the best way. After months spent tightening every screw just to keep from falling apart, this ease felt like breath finally let loose. And really, what was the point of all the effort, all the exhaustion, if she couldn’t let herself feel this every now and then?

By the time the third song faded out, they regrouped with the others. Charlotte was already leaning into Ben, whispering something close to his ear, while Kyle made his way back to Aurora with a new drink in one hand and a glowing neon ring in the other.

“Where’d you get that?” Aurora asked, laughing as he approached.

“Some drunk guy in a Garfield costume gave it to me,” Kyle said with a shrug. “Didn’t seem like the kind of moment to ask questions.” He slipped the bright pink glow ring over her head, grinning.

They danced side by side, not touching, just moving with the music. She appreciated how, this time, he didn’t edge closer or try to close the space between them. There was no expectation in the air, just an easy kind of presence that made her feel — if not entirely at ease — at least unbothered.

It was strange how something as simple as respecting her space felt noteworthy, even rare.

She’d had enough uncomfortable encounters in college to know how fast a good time could turn sour. But with Harry, that tension had never existed. He’d never once crossed a line (at least not one that she didn’t want him to). Being around him felt calm, natural; like something her nervous system didn’t need to brace against.

Maybe it was his age. Maybe it was the fact that he was someone’s father. Or maybe it had nothing to do with either — maybe it was just him.

Ugh. Again.

She really needed to stop thinking about him.

The group eventually made their way downstairs, the music fading into a soft, rhythmic thrum behind them — like a distant echo of the night they were slowly stepping away from. The bar below was quieter, more relaxed. Laughter danced through the air, blending with the delicate clatter of glass and the low hum of lingering conversation.

“That was fun,” Charlotte said, linking her arm through Aurora’s as they walked side by side. She cast a glance over her shoulder toward the others, raising her voice just enough to be heard. “What’s next, everyone?”

Aurora pulled out her phone.

12: 17 A.M.

Not late by city standards — at least, not really — but her body told a different story. Hours of talking, laughing, and sipping cocktails had left Aurora spent, her limbs heavy with exhaustion and the slow afterglow of alcohol.

“I think I’m calling it,” she said quietly, leaning toward Charlotte. “I’ll just head back to your place. I can Uber.”

Charlotte stopped in her tracks, frowning. “Alone? No way, I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Aurora replied, offering a small, worn-out smile. “Seriously, Char. Stay and have fun, I’ll be fine.” 

Before Charlotte could press further, Kyle appeared beside them; hands in his jacket pockets, expression easy. “Leaving already?”

“Aurora is,” Charlotte said with mock disapproval. “And she thinks I’m going to just let her wander off alone like some random pedestrian.”

“I can go with her,” Kyle offered without hesitation. “I’m like, what, ten minutes from your place? I’ll just walk the rest of the way.”

Aurora paused, considering. Charlotte wasn’t going to let her leave alone, that much was obvious, and Kyle’s suggestion made sense.

“Are you sure you don’t mind leaving early?”

Kyle shrugged, giving her a relaxed smile. “It’s no big deal. I’ve got to be up early anyway — coaching Little League at eight.”

“Sure then,” Aurora nodded appreciatively. “Thanks, Kyle.”

She turned back to Charlotte, who was already raising her brows like she’d just been proven right in an unspoken argument.

“So Kyle’s taking you home, then,” Charlotte said, trying not to grin.

“Apparently,” Aurora replied dryly, ignoring the look. “I’ll see you later.”

“Since you’re leaving, I might just end up at Ben’s tonight. Don’t wait up.” She winked, pulling Aurora in for a hug. “Be safe, okay? Text me when you’re back.”

“Mm, no you be safe.”

The ride back to Charlotte’s house passed in silence. Aurora sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the window as street lights flickered by, casting fleeting shadows across her face. Kyle sat beside her, glancing over now and then, checking on her.

“You okay?” He asked softly, concern woven through his voice.

She turned, offering a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Kyle was kind — gentle, thoughtful, her own age.

The kind of guy she should be falling for.

The kind she wanted to fall for, if only to free herself from the hold Harry had on her. But no matter how much she wished for it, there was no spark. And that truth settled in her chest like a weight, thick with guilt.

When the car finally pulled into the driveway, the first thing Aurora noticed was the absence.

No car. No sign of Harry.

He still wasn’t home. 

A quiet dread curled low in her stomach.

“You sure you’re alright?” Kyle asked again, catching the way she hesitated.

She forced another smile. “All good.”

As he walked her all the way to the front steps, a wave of nerves crept in; not the soft, fluttery kind, but the kind that prickled beneath the skin, uneasy and crawling. She worried about Kyle thinking that this meant something more — or worse, that he expected a kiss. And when Aurora got nervous, she rambled.

“Thank you for coming back with me. That was super thoughtful of you, you really didn’t have to. . . Oh, and the drinks! Both of them — super good — thank you.”

They stood just in front of the porch now, facing each other. Kyle let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Any decent person would have done the same. You don’t have to thank me.”

She smiled again, unsure of what else to say. For a moment, they stood in a quiet that felt both comfortable and loaded.

Then Kyle tilted his head, breaking the silence. “So. . . I guess this is it, huh?”

His question threw her. “What do you mean?”

He gave her a look — not bitter, not accusatory. Just quietly knowing. “You’re into someone else.”

Aurora’s heart stuttered. “What?”

“I can tell,” he said gently. “You were somewhere else tonight. You had that look. . . the same one I wore for months. You miss someone.”

She didn’t move. At this point, she knew better than to lie to Kyle — and honestly, she didn’t want to. Talking to him came easily, and she had kept this secret bottled up for long enough.

“Yeah,” Aurora replied solemnly. “I do.”

Kyle nodded like he had already made peace with it.

After a beat, she added, “You too?”

“Yeah,” he mirrored her earnest expression. He shifted his weight back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “We’d been together since high school, and I really thought we would get married. Right up until she ended things a few months ago. . . and jumped straight into a new relationship with her coworker.”

Something tugged at her chest. “Oh, man. I’m really sorry.”

He gave a small shrug. “It is what it is.”

“I don’t have any wise advice about dealing with heartbreak — if I did, I would probably be using it myself — but. . . you’re a good guy, Kyle, and I know someone else is going to see that right away.”

Kyle smiled at that. “Thanks, Aurora. Same to you. And whoever you’re hung up on — he’s an idiot.”

Aurora laughed, the sound soft and warm in the quiet night, then pulled Kyle into a hug. He didn’t hesitate — wrapping his arms around her like they had done this a hundred times before.

Just as she stepped back, the hum of an approaching car broke the moment. A sleek black vehicle slowed to a stop in front of the house. The passenger window rolled down with a low mechanical whir, revealing Harry behind the wheel, his gaze fixed squarely on her.

He didn’t blink. His expression was carefully neutral, but something about the tight line of his jaw made her stomach twist.

Kyle turned toward the car, oblivious. “Oh, hey Mr. Styles!” He called out, lifting a hand in a cheerful wave.

Harry’s reply came a beat too late. “Hi, Kyle.” His tone was cool, clipped — so opposite from Kyle’s warmth that it felt like a chill in the air. “Were you just dropping Aurora off?”

“I was, yeah.”

“That was nice of you,” Harry nodded, each word deliberate. “Why don’t I drive you back home?”

It wasn’t a question.

Kyle blinked, slightly thrown. “Oh, uh, that’s okay. Aurora and I were still talking. I can just walk —”

“It’s nearly one in the morning,” Harry cut in, his voice low but firm. “You were kind enough to make sure she got home safe. You’ve done your part, now let me do mine.”

Aurora’s eyes drifted to him. He wasn’t looking at Kyle; his attention hadn’t wavered from her. His hand remained clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles pale beneath the glow of the streetlamp.

Kyle hesitated, visibly unsure at first, then gave a reluctant nod. “Right, yeah.” He turned to Aurora with a small, hopeful smile. “I’ll see you around?”

She returned the smile. “Definitely. And thanks again, Kyle. For everything.”

“Okay, okay, enough with the thanks,” Kyle chuckled, giving her arm a brief, warm squeeze before heading toward Harry’s car.

As Kyle got into the car, Aurora glanced at Harry — only to find he was no longer watching her. His head was bent slightly, thumbs moving over his phone screen.

Kyle fastened his seatbelt and looked her way again, lifting a hand to wave. But before the gesture could land, Harry pulled off the curb.

She watched the tail lights disappear down the street, frowning in confusion at the tension radiating from him. 

Then her phone buzzed. A new notification lit up the screen.

She swiped it open — and her breath caught.

Harry: We need to talk.

Harry: Wait for me to get home.

Part Fifteen

A/N: buckle in, y'all — we're getting hot and heavy in the next few parts! 🤠 if you enjoyed reading this or would like a sneak peak into the next part, let me know here <3

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The night before had been a blur of laughter and indulgence. She and Charlotte had stayed up late, buzzing with excitement over finally sharing a space again. What started as a late-night grocery run for cookie dough had spiraled into baking at midnight, their impromptu snack devoured as a bad rom-com played in the background. Eventually, The Kissing Booth had lulled them to sleep, both sprawled across Aurora’s bed — the only room with a set up TV.

Now, the aftermath of their night surrounded her. Crumbs littered her nightstand, empty plates stacked haphazardly on top of them. With a groan, she pushed herself upright and ran a hand through her hair before getting to work.

Cleaning had always been Aurora’s way of resetting. She cleared the plates, wiped down the surfaces, and smoothed her sheets until everything was in its place. By the time she was done, the guilt of sleeping in had dulled to a faint hum.

She wrapped herself in a robe, slid into her slippers, and carried the stacked dishes to the kitchen. The oven clock read 11:47 A.M.

That was when she saw it.

A cardboard beverage carrier on the kitchen island. Only one cup remained. Beside it sat a light blue bakery bag, the colors unmistakable.

Cozy’s.

Curious, Aurora stepped closer. She picked up the cup, the condensation cool against her fingertips. As she brought it closer, her brows lifted. No way.

But there it was. 

Her precise drink order. A quick peek inside the bag confirmed the rest — an olive oil bundt cake.

Harry.

A warmth spread through her chest, quiet and insistent. She could still picture him from yesterday — calm, attentive, exuding a natural charm. This only confirmed what she already suspected.

He noticed the little things.

Aurora’s heart fluttered, but she had to push the feeling to the side. Harry was simply being kind. Thoughtfulness was in his nature. Reading into it would be foolish. Dangerous, even — for her, for him, for Charlotte.

But then something else caught her eye.

Her desk.

Fully assembled, standing in the corner, its cherrywood finish gleaming in the morning light. Aurora blinked, stepping closer, as if making sure she wasn’t still half-asleep. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface, marveling at the craftsmanship.

“Do you like it?”

She turned to find Harry leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

He looked like a dream.

She had to be sure he wasn’t.

Without thinking, Aurora closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him. “Like it?” she echoed, voice thick with disbelief. “Harry, I love it. Thank you so much.”

His hands found her waist, steady and warm. He leaned into the embrace, his chin grazing the top of her head. The scent of sandalwood and something distinctly him wrapped around her, and Aurora melted into it further before she could even stop herself.

The hug lingered much longer than it should have, but neither of them appeared eager to pull away.

Aurora’s pulse quickened; suddenly, painfully aware of how thin her robe was. Of the even thinner slip beneath it. Of the way her body, particularly her breasts, responded to his nearness.

And of the way his hands hadn’t moved.

Heat bloomed across her skin, and she took a step back, heart hammering. Harry’s grip loosened, but his green eyes stayed on her, searching.

“Sorry,” she murmured, looking everywhere but at him. “I just. . . wanted to thank you properly. For the desk. And breakfast. And — well, everything.”

“What are you saying sorry for?” His gaze flickered, voice dropping slightly. “Your appreciation isn’t lost on me.”

Oh.

Oh.

Was he teasing? Flirting? She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and the air between them grew thick with something charged, something electric.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat, stepping back with an easy smile. “It was no trouble,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I set it up out here.”

“Thanks for that,” Aurora replied, grateful to steer the conversation to safer ground. “I don’t usually sleep in this late, but Charlotte and I were up until, like, three.”

Harry laughed, the sound deep and infectious. “She’s already being a bad influence on you, huh?”

Aurora laughed, too. More like the other way around, she thought, but let the comment slide.

His composure returned as he nodded toward the hallway. “I’m helping Charlotte with a few things in her room now, but after that, I’ll finish the living room TV set up.”

Aurora nodded. “That sounds good. Just let me know if you need any help.”

“Will do,” Harry said, voice dipping slightly. Then, after a beat, “And if you need anything, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

It was phrased as a question, but she knew better.

“Yes,” Aurora answered softly.

He smiled. “Good girl.”

Aurora froze. Her eyes immediately darted to his, searching for signs of mischief. But his expression remained perfectly calm, as if he hadn’t just said something to make her pulse skyrocket.

Then, with one last devastating smile, he turned and walked back toward Charlotte’s room.

Had he really just said that?

And worse — had it really just turned her on?

Later that afternoon, after running a few errands, Aurora returned to the apartment to find the living room in complete disarray. Tools were scattered across the floor, instructions lay discarded on the coffee table, and in the center of it all, Harry and Charlotte were knee-deep in assembling a new television console.

“Perfect timing,” Charlotte called, flashing Aurora a deep grin. “We need an extra set of hands.”

Aurora hesitated, unsure if she trusted herself to be around Harry after this morning — especially not with Charlotte in the room. But when he glanced up, his eyes met hers, steady and unreadable. No teasing, no lingering tension. Just the calm presence that always seemed to disarm her.

“Sure,” she answered finally. “Let me just put my things away first.”

Five minutes later, Aurora settled onto the living room floor with them, doing her best to focus on the task at hand. But her attention betrayed her. Every now and then, her eyes drifted to Harry — the way his sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms. The easy way he handled the tools, the quiet way he chuckled at something Charlotte said. Even the low timbre of his voice when he asked Aurora to pass him a screwdriver sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

The girl was a goner.

When they finished, Charlotte flopped onto the couch with a triumphant sigh.

“By the way,” she announced, stretching her arms overhead, “I’m way too exhausted after all this building to cook, so we’re going out to dinner tonight.”

Aurora arched her brow. “You wouldn’t have cooked anything anyway.”

“This is true,” Charlotte admitted, grinning.

Aurora and Harry exchanged an amused look, shaking their heads at Charlotte’s theatrics.

“I made reservations at a Latin restaurant for eight,” Harry said, glancing at his watch. “Which, as it turns out, isn’t too far from now.”

Charlotte perked up instantly. “Perfect. I could use a margarita the size of my face after all this.” She turned to Aurora with a mischievous grin. “Vámonos, chica! Time to get all dolled up.”

Aurora started to stand but hesitated, glancing at Harry. “But we haven’t put the TV on the console yet.”

“I’ll take care of the rest,” Harry assured her.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he reached out, resting a hand over hers — just for a second, but enough to still her.

“Go on,” he said softly. “I’ve got it covered.”

The feeling of his touch remained even after he pulled away, heat curling beneath her skin.

Charlotte, oblivious to the moment, scrambled to her feet, newfound excitement replacing her previous exhaustion. “Don’t have to tell us twice,” she sang, grabbing Aurora’s hand and pulling her toward the bedroom. “We’ll be ready in an hour!”

Part Five

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