A story of us

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The warmth of his lips still lingered on hers long after he had left. She found herself touching her mouth absentmindedly, as if the sensation would fade if she didn't hold onto it. It was strange—how something as simple as a kiss could shift everything, could make the world feel lighter and heavier all at once.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring out the window at the city below. It was quiet outside, the distant hum of cars barely noticeable against the thoughts racing through her head. This—whatever it was between them—was real now. There was no more hiding behind uncertainty, no more pretending it wasn't there.

And yet, that was what terrified her the most.

Her past had taught her that good things didn't last, that the moment she let herself believe in something, it would slip through her fingers. She wanted to believe this was different. That he was different. But the fear still lurked beneath the surface, whispering doubts she didn't want to acknowledge.

Her phone vibrated beside her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Him: Hey. Just wanted to say goodnight. Hope you sleep well.

She stared at the message, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the war waging in her mind. He was making this easy—showing up, reaching out. He wasn't waiting for her to make the first move.

Maybe she could learn to do the same.

Her: Goodnight. You too.

She hesitated for a second before adding, Thanks for today.

His reply came almost instantly.

Him: Anytime. Sleep tight.

She set the phone down, exhaling slowly. This was new territory for her. Letting someone in, allowing herself to trust, to hope. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to take that risk.

---

The next morning, she woke up feeling lighter than she had in weeks. There was no urgent need to pull away, no immediate regret. Just the lingering warmth of something good.

She stretched, rolling onto her side to grab her phone. A small part of her hoped for another message from him, but there was none. She shook off the disappointment—he had a life, things to do. They weren't the type to text every hour, and that was okay.

Still, after getting ready for the day, she found herself standing in her kitchen, her fingers hovering over her phone.

Should she text first?

Before she could second-guess herself, she typed quickly.

Her: Coffee later? My treat this time.

She hit send before she could overthink it. A minute passed. Then another.

Then—

Him: Are you trying to bribe me?

She grinned, shaking her head.

Her: Maybe.

Him: Alright, I'm in. Usual place?

Her: Yep. See you in an hour?

Him: Wouldn't miss it.

Her heart did something ridiculous at those words, but she ignored it. This wasn't supposed to feel so easy. And yet, it did.

---

She arrived at the café first, ordering their usual drinks before settling into a corner booth. The air was thick with the scent of fresh coffee and baked goods, the low hum of conversation filling the space. She tapped her fingers against the table, the nerves creeping in despite herself.

Would today be different? Would the weight of what they admitted last night make things awkward?

The door chimed, and she looked up just in time to see him walk in. He spotted her instantly, a slow smile spreading across his face as he made his way over.

"Look at you," he teased, sliding into the seat across from her. "Paying for my coffee and everything. Should I be worried?"

She rolled her eyes, pushing his cup toward him. "Don't get used to it."

He smirked, taking a sip. "No promises."

They fell into easy conversation, the kind that came naturally between them. The weight of last night still lingered, but it wasn't heavy—it was just there, an unspoken presence between them.

At one point, he leaned back, watching her with an unreadable expression. "You seem… different today."

She raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"

"I don't know." He studied her for a moment. "Lighter. Less guarded."

She looked down at her coffee, running her fingers along the rim of the cup. "Maybe I am."

He didn't push for more, and she was grateful for it. Instead, he reached across the table, brushing his fingers against hers briefly before pulling back. It was a small gesture, but it sent warmth spreading through her chest.

They finished their coffee, and as they stepped outside, he glanced at her. "Got plans for the rest of the day?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Why?"

His lips curved into a slow smile. "Come with me."

She narrowed her eyes. "Where?"

"You'll see."

She hesitated, but the excitement in his eyes was infectious. "Fine. But if this is some elaborate prank, I swear—"

He laughed. "Relax. You'll like it."

And for once, she didn't fight it. She just let herself follow.

---

They ended up at a small bookstore tucked away in a quiet part of the city. The kind with floor-to-ceiling shelves, overstuffed armchairs, and the smell of old pages filling the air.

She looked around, surprised. "This is where you wanted to take me?"

He shrugged. "Thought you'd like it."

Her chest tightened. He knew her. Knew what made her feel safe, what made her happy.

She turned to him, softer now. "I do."

They wandered the aisles, picking up random books, making up ridiculous stories about the covers. He'd hold up a title with a serious expression, pretending to pitch it to her, and she'd laugh, shaking her head.

At some point, she found herself watching him more than the books. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he ran his fingers along the spines like they were something sacred.

She was falling. She knew it now. And for the first time, she didn't want to stop herself.

"Hey," he said suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts. "Come here."

She followed him to a small reading nook in the back. He sat down, patting the space beside him. She hesitated for only a second before sinking down next to him.

He opened a book, pretending to read in an overly dramatic voice, and she burst out laughing.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn't afraid of what came next.

She was just here.

With him.

And that was enough.

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