Ava knew she shouldn't be this nervous.
It was just Liam.
Kind, safe, predictable Liam.
They were standing outside the faculty garden after their group meeting, the evening breeze brushing against her skin as students trickled past in twos and threes. Liam was talking about the upcoming departmental dinner, how he thought she'd enjoy it, how he wanted her to come with him.
"Ava," he said quietly, stepping closer. "I… really like being around you."
Her heart didn't skip.
Not for him.
But she appreciated his warmth, his gentleness, the way he made her feel seen even when she was trying to hide her storm.
"Liam, I—"
Footsteps.
Fast. Heavy. Sharp.
Ava didn't have to turn to know.
Nicholas.
She felt him before she saw him — that sudden shift in the air, the heat pressing at her spine, the intensity that always made her chest tighten.
"What's going on here?" Nicholas' voice cut through the space between them, low and hard.
Liam straightened slightly, confused but not intimidated. "We're talking. Is that a problem?"
Nicholas didn't look at him.
He looked at her.
Deep. Burning. Accusing.
"Ava," he said, and it wasn't a question. It was a demand.
Liam frowned. "Man, relax. She's not—"
Nicholas grabbed Ava's wrist.
Not roughly.
Not painfully.
Just firmly enough that her breath hitched and her body obeyed before her mind could catch up.
"Nicholas—" she whispered, startled, but he was already pulling her away from Liam, guiding her toward the back hallway beside the lecture block — the place students rarely passed this late.
When they reached the narrow corner, Nicholas stopped.
But he didn't let go of her wrist.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Her back brushed the wall.
He wasn't touching her, but he was everywhere — in the heat of his breath, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes traveled from her lips to her eyes and back again like he was fighting something inside him.
"You and Liam?" he asked quietly.
She swallowed. "It's not what you think."
"Really?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Because that looked like he was about to kiss you."
"You don't get to decide who—"
Nicholas suddenly placed one hand on the wall beside her head, caging her in.
Her pulse jumped.
Her knees weakened.
Every part of her tensed.
"Ava," he murmured, leaning in until his forehead almost brushed hers, "don't let him touch you like that."
"Why?" Her voice trembled before she could stop it.
Nicholas inhaled sharply, jaw tightening like he was restraining himself. His eyes flicked to her lips again, and this time he didn't look away.
His hand lifted — slowly — brushing a stray curl from her cheek, letting his fingers linger longer than necessary.
Her breath caught.
He leaned in…
Closer…
Closer…
Her lips parted instinctively.
They were a breath away from kissing — barely a heartbeat apart — when Nicholas froze.
His eyes snapped shut.
He exhaled shakily and stepped back, breaking the moment just before it crossed the line.
Her chest felt hollow. Her skin burned where he had touched it.
Nicholas dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated, almost angry at himself. "Just…" he muttered, voice unsteady, "don't be alone with him like that."
Ava blinked, still trapped between shock and something deeper. "Nicholas—"
But he was already turning away.
Already walking off.
Leaving her pressed against the wall, breathless and confused, with the ghost of a kiss that almost happened.
The one her heart wasn't sure she would recover from.