The street outside Hriva's building was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt like it was waiting. Moonlight spilled across the pavement, making the windshield glow silver. Neither of them moved to open the door.
Jake's fingers still rested near the gearshift, unmoving. Hriva sat curled slightly toward him, her hands clasped in her lap, the remnants of laughter still hovering in her breath.
"You're not gonna leave, are you?" she asked softly, not teasing this time.
Jake turned to look at her. "Not even if you paid me."
Hriva smiled faintly. Then looked away. "Can I tell you something stupid?"
Jake nodded. "Always."
She hesitated, then murmured, "I kept imagining how tonight would go. Meeting your friends. That kind of thing always makes me nervous. But… with you there, it felt like I'd already been a part of it."
He reached over, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "That's because you already are."
Hriva blinked slowly. "Even Kendra?"
Jake gave a crooked smile. "Kendra peaked at prom. You? You haven't even started."
Her smile widened, but it didn't reach all the way to her eyes.
Jake noticed.
"You okay?" he asked, voice gentler now.
"I'm fine," she said. Then added quickly, "Just tired."
Jake didn't press her. Instead, he cut the engine and climbed out. He came around to open her door, and without a word, Hriva slipped her fingers into his.
The walk upstairs was slow, silent, but not empty. Her steps were quieter than usual. Jake felt it. A shift. Small, but there.
Inside, her apartment was dark except for the soft yellow light coming from the kitchen. Hriva dropped her bag near the couch and toed off her shoes without speaking. She moved to the fridge, pulled out a carton of orange juice, and drank straight from it like she didn't care who was watching.
Jake leaned against the counter, arms folded. "You do know glasses exist, right?"
"I was making a statement," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Oh yeah? What kind of statement?"
"That I'm too tired to care how charming I look."
Jake walked over, took the juice from her hand, and took a sip himself. "Still charming."
Hriva gave him a flat look. "You're impossible."
"And you're hiding something."
She flinched, just slightly. Then exhaled and leaned back against the counter beside him.
"I used to hate being around people like that," she said quietly. "The kind of friends who've known each other forever. Who share inside jokes and stupid memories and don't have to try."
Jake stayed silent.
"I've always felt like a guest in rooms like that. Like I was passing through while they'd always be standing still."
Jake nodded slowly. "You're not passing through mine."
Hriva looked up at him, her eyes shadowed with something vulnerable. "Promise?"
"I don't make promises I can't keep."
She gave a shaky laugh and slid her hand into his. "Good. Because I've never let someone this close before. Not really."
Jake leaned forward, brushed his lips across her forehead. "Then we'll figure it out. Slowly. Together."
Later, they didn't go straight to bed.
They ended up on the couch, legs tangled, a blanket draped over them. Hriva held a mug of hot tea while Jake flipped through old vinyls from her collection.
"Why do you have this?" he asked, holding up a disco album with a dramatic glitter cover.
"I went through a phase," she said.
"You still in it?"
"Maybe."
He smirked. "You want me to put it on?"
"Only if you promise not to dance."
Jake stood, walked over to the record player, and placed the vinyl carefully on the spinning plate. He turned the dial, and the scratch of static gave way to a retro beat that made Hriva groan into her mug.
"I said no dancing."
Jake raised his hands and started swaying dramatically.
"Oh my God," she laughed, "you are a menace."
"Admit it. You love it."
"I hate it," she grinned, "which is why I probably love it."
He pulled her up from the couch despite her protests. She tried to squirm away, but he didn't let go. Instead, he placed her hands on his shoulders, rested his own lightly on her waist, and began to sway.
There was no rhythm. No technique.
Just two idiots slow-dancing to disco in the soft light of her living room.
Her head found its way to his chest.
And Jake whispered, "You don't need to be one of them to be one of us."
Hriva looked up. "What do you mean?"
"The ones with perfect friend groups. Picture-perfect pasts. You're not someone passing through, Hriva. You're the one I want to build things with."
Something shifted in her face.
Softened.
Anchored.
Then she rose on her toes and kissed him. Not a long kiss. Just enough to say thank you.
Enough to say I believe you.
Much later, after they'd curled up in bed and the apartment had fallen into silence again, Hriva whispered something she wasn't sure he'd hear.
"I've never had nights like this."
Jake's voice came from the dark beside her.
"You'll have more. I'm not going anywhere."
Her fingers found his under the sheets.
And held tight.