Chapter Four:
He didn't wait for permission.
Not really.
Because the second I didn't say no—the second I didn't pull away—he closed the space between us like it had always belonged to him.
And then he kissed me.
It wasn't gentle.It wasn't soft.It was fire. It was war. It was every memory we buried clawing its way back to the surface.
My back hit the wall with a thud, and I didn't care. His hand found my waist like it had a thousand times before, like my body still remembered the way he used to hold it. And maybe it did. Maybe I did.
Our lips moved like they'd been waiting—starving—for this exact moment. Two years of silence. Two years of pretending. Two years of "I'm fine"s that meant absolutely nothing now.
But it wasn't just a kiss.
It was a challenge.
His fingers threaded into my curls. My nails grazed his shoulder. And for a second, just a second, it felt like everything bad between us had never happened.
Then I pulled away.
Fast. Like I'd been burned.
His chest was rising hard, matching mine. Eyes wild. Lips swollen. But there was something in his gaze I couldn't handle.
Hope.
"Don't," I whispered, pushing him back a step. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" His voice was hoarse.
"Like we still have a chance."
He didn't answer.
And that scared me more than if he had.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
"Dani—" he started.
I stopped at the handle, heart cracking, fingers trembling.
"That kiss didn't mean anything," I lied.
Then I left.And prayed he didn't chase me.Because if he did… I wasn't sure I'd run.