Page 36 of Dreams and Desires

I grab his jacket with both hands. I don’t mean to. I just do. I need something to hang onto, something that feels solid because this? This feels like falling.

I kiss him back. Hard. There’s no plan to it. I’m not thinking. I’m just... doing.

He tilts his head, shifts a little, and everything gets deeper. Hotter. His thumb brushes under my jaw. I feel it everywhere.

There’s no space between us now. Not even air. Just heat and pressure and all the stuff we didn’t say getting pushed out through this.

I make a noise — not loud, just a breath that catches in my throat — and he reacts to it like he’s been waiting for it. His grip tightens, not rough, but like he doesn’t want to stop.

Neither do I.

When he finally pulls away, it’s not far. His forehead rests against mine. We’re both breathing hard, like we’ve just come up for air after being underwater too long. He mutters quietly. “Tell me to stop.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. I do. Too much. But none of it feels right. Anything besidesdon’t stopwould be a lie.

He’s still close. I can feel his breath. He doesn’t kiss me again. His hand just moves to my waist and stays there, like he’s grounding himself. Like he’s making sure this is still happening.

He looks at me. In the eye. Too long.

And it messes with my head.

It’s not like I’m blushing or flustered or anything dumb like that. It’s something quieter. Like a flutter under my ribs. Not sexual. Just… exposed. I hate it.

“You look at me like I’m someone I’m not,” I say.

He blinks once. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smile. Just holds steady.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he says. His voice stays even. “Juniper, I kissed you because I wanted to.You kissed me back because you wanted it too.”

It’s simple. Too simple. But he’s not wrong.

And that makes it worse.

I let go of his shirt. I don’t remember grabbing it, but my hands are empty now. I take half a step back. I feel like I need air, but there’s plenty. I just… can’t breathe right.

“Zade—” I try, but the rest of it sticks in my throat.

And then it hits. Fast. Loud.

I’m eighteen again. Brian grinning like a winner, that smug look on his face. I thought it was love. Turned out it was a setup. My name in every inbox. My picture in every hallway. People laughed. People whispered. I felt like garbage.

I blink hard. Once. Twice. Trying to shut it out.

I can’t do that again.

“I can’t,” the words scrape out of me. “I can’t do this.”

My body feels flushed, my skin hypersensitive, and I hate how much I want him to reach for me again. How much I want to stay in this moment, even though everything in me is screaming that I shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I say, though I’m not even sure what for. The kiss? The leaving? The wanting?

Zade leans back and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t speak. Just watches me gather my bag like I haven’t already unraveled everything between us in one messy, beautiful mistake.

At the door, I hesitate. It’s quiet behind me, almost too quiet, but I make myself keep moving. My hand is already on the knob, ready to leave, when he breaks the stillness.

“Don’t walk away like this.”

I turn around slowly, meeting his eyes.

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