She didn't see him again for the rest of the day.
And honestly?
That scared her more than seeing him would have.
Because now she wasn't distracted by his eyes, his voice, his irritating confidence—
now she had nothing but her own thoughts
and her thoughts were LOUD.
Too loud.
She walked back to her dorm with her heart still unsteady, her lips still remembering the shape of him, and her chest holding a truth she didn't want to admit.
She was falling.
And she didn't even know when it started.
That evening, she sat at her desk pretending to study.
Her pen hovered over her notes, but she couldn't focus.
Not even on the simplest sentence.
She traced over her handwriting, but all she could see in her mind was—
The way he pulled her away at the party.
The way he pinned her to the wall.
The way his breath touched her lips before he kissed her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her pen.
"No. Stop thinking about him," she whispered to herself.
But her body remembered too strongly.
Her heart beat too fast.
Her skin tingled too easily.
And the worst part?
He knew.
He knew she felt it.
He felt it too.
That was what terrified her.
Not the kiss.
Not the closeness.
Not even the tension.
But the truth behind it.
That something between them was real.
Too real.
Her phone buzzed.
One message.
Her breath stumbled when she saw the name.
Nicholas Wolfe.
She hesitated before opening it.
You avoided me again.
Her stomach tightened.
She typed back:
I didn't avoid you.
A few seconds.
Then—
You did.
But it's fine.
I get it.
You're scared again.
She bit her lip hard, frustration shooting through her.
Can you stop saying that?
His reply was instant.
Why?
It's the truth.
She threw her phone on the bed and stood up, pacing.
Why was he like this?!
Why couldn't he just leave her alone?!
Why couldn't he be normal?!
She picked up her phone again.
You think everything is about fear.
This time, he didn't respond fast.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Two.
Then finally—
No.
I think everything is about you not wanting to feel something you already feel.
She froze.
Her heart almost stopped.
Because he was right.
And she hated him for being right.
Nicholas… stop.
The typing dots appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then—
Come outside.
If you're not scared, then prove it.
Her breath hitched.
She stared at the message.
Her heartbeat became loud—
louder—
too loud.
Why did he want her outside?
What did he want to say?
What if he—
She shook her head.
"No. I'm not going."
She dropped her phone and sat on her bed.
But she didn't relax.
Her pulse wouldn't settle.
Her fingers kept twitching.
Her body wouldn't stay still.
She glanced at the door.
Then at her phone.
Then at the door again.
"No…" she whispered.
Except she was already standing.
Already reaching for her sweater.
Already stepping out the door.
The night air was cool, brushing her skin lightly as she walked outside.
Campus lights glowed softly—
orange, dim, quiet.
She looked around like an idiot.
Then she saw him.
Leaning against the railing near the pathway.
Hands in his pockets.
Head lowered slightly.
Lost in thought.
Until he heard her footsteps.
Then he looked up.
And everything inside her flipped.
His eyes swept over her slowly, like he'd been waiting longer than he wanted to admit.
He didn't smirk.
Didn't tease.
He just… watched her walk toward him.
Her throat felt tight.
Her knees felt weak.
Her heart felt unsteady.
When she stopped in front of him, neither of them spoke.
The silence between them was thick.
Alive.
Electric.
Finally, he pushed off the railing and stepped closer—
close enough that she felt the warmth of him even in the cool breeze.
"You came," he said quietly.
She swallowed.
"I didn't want to. I just—"
His eyes dropped to her lips for half a second.
Her words died.
He lifted his gaze again.
"You keep saying you don't want to," he murmured, "but then you keep choosing me anyway."
Her breath trembled.
"I didn't choose you."
He took another slow step forward.
Her back brushed the railing behind her.
He noticed.
He didn't stop.
"You did," he whispered. "You're here."
She didn't know what to say.
Didn't know how to breathe.
He reached up—
not touching her—
just brushing a few strands of hair away from her face.
The gentleness made her chest ache.
"You've been thinking about it," he said softly. "The kiss."
Her eyes widened.
"I haven't."
Another lie.
He smiled faintly—
like he could hear the truth in her voice.
"You have."
She exhaled sharply, her voice shaking now.
"You think everything is so simple, don't you?"
He shook his head.
"No.
I just think you're running from something that feels too real."
Her heart clenched.
"Nicholas…"
He lowered his voice, stepping even closer—
their bodies almost touching.
"Say you didn't feel it," he whispered.
"And I'll leave you alone.
Right now.
Tonight.
Tomorrow.
All of it."
Her lips parted.
Say it.
Say it and he'll step back.
Say it and the tension will break.
Say it and the kiss will stop haunting her.
But she couldn't.
She really couldn't.
Her silence… was the truth.
His gaze deepened.
Darkened.
Softened.
He leaned in—
slow, slow, slow—
his breath brushing her cheek.
Close enough to kiss her.
Close enough to feel her heartbeat.
Close enough to ruin her all over again.
But he didn't kiss her this time.
He whispered, voice low and devastating:
"You see?
You can't say it.
Because we both know it wasn't nothing."
Her knees almost gave out.
He stepped back just a little, letting her breathe.
Then he turned to leave, but paused.
Looked over his shoulder.
"And Ava…?"
She looked up, barely holding herself together.
His voice dropped, soft but certain:
"This isn't going away."
Then he walked off into the night.
Leaving her standing there—
shaken, breathless, and fully aware
that she was losing this battle.
And maybe…
she didn't really want to win