A story of us

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The bookstore had felt like a dream—soft laughter between dusty shelves, stolen glances over pages filled with stories that weren't their own. She hadn't realized how much she needed it until now, standing outside with the city buzzing around them, a quiet hum beneath the weight of something unspoken.

She hugged the book he had picked out for her—a small poetry collection, the kind she'd never admit she liked. "I can't believe you actually got this for me."

He smirked, hands tucked into his pockets. "You can't take forever picking something and then not get it. I did you a favor."

She rolled her eyes. "So, what? You're trying to take credit for my excellent taste now?"

"I mean, technically—"

She nudged him with her shoulder before he could finish, and he chuckled, bumping her back. The easy playfulness settled between them again, but underneath it, she could feel something shifting.

It had been shifting for a while now.

She glanced up at him, watching the way the sunlight caught in his hair. He looked at ease, like standing there with her in the middle of the city was exactly where he wanted to be. She wished she could let herself believe it was that simple.

"So," he said, breaking the silence. "What's next? You got anywhere to be?"

She hesitated. There was an answer she wanted to give, but old habits tugged at her, whispering that maybe it was safer to create space. That maybe she should pull back before she let herself fall too far.

She wasn't sure if it was bravery or recklessness that made her ignore it.

"No plans," she said finally. "Why? You got something in mind?"

His lips curved into a knowing smile, like he'd been hoping for that answer. "As a matter of fact, I do."

She narrowed her eyes. "Should I be worried?"

"Absolutely," he said without missing a beat, but his grin softened. "Come on. I promise you'll like it."

And just like that, she let herself follow him again.

---

They ended up at the waterfront.

The sky stretched endlessly above them, pale blue with streaks of gold as the sun began its slow descent. The water was calm, waves lapping gently against the dock. Boats rocked in the distance, the occasional call of a gull breaking the silence.

She took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill her lungs. "Okay. I'll admit it. This is nice."

He grinned. "See? You should trust me more."

She gave him a look. "Let's not get carried away."

He laughed, but there was something softer in his gaze when he looked at her, something that made her pulse unsteady.

They walked side by side along the dock, falling into a comfortable rhythm. Every so often, their arms would brush, and each time, her breath hitched a little, as if her body had yet to catch up with the fact that this—they—were real now.

Eventually, they found a quiet spot near the edge, sitting down with their legs dangling over the water.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he exhaled, staring out at the horizon. "You know… I used to come here a lot."

She glanced at him, sensing the shift in his tone. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "Whenever things got too loud, too complicated. This place made everything feel smaller. Simpler."

She studied his profile, the way his jaw tensed slightly, the way his fingers tapped idly against his knee. She had spent so much time trying to keep her own walls up that she sometimes forgot he had his own.

She hesitated before asking, "And now?"

He turned to her then, his gaze steady. "Now… it's different."

She swallowed. "Different how?"

His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head with a small laugh. "You ask a lot of questions, you know that?"

She smirked. "It's called conversation."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Okay, then. Your turn."

She raised an eyebrow. "My turn for what?"

"To answer a question." He leaned back on his hands, watching her carefully. "Why did you ask me to stay that night?"

She stiffened slightly, not expecting that question. But he didn't look like he was trying to put her on the spot—he just looked curious.

She looked away, focusing on the ripples in the water. "I don't know."

"Liar," he said lightly, but there was no bite to it.

She sighed, picking at the spine of the book in her lap. "Because I wanted you to."

It was quiet for a beat.

Then, softly, "Yeah?"

She nodded, still not looking at him. "It's… hard for me. Letting people in."

"I know."

Something about the way he said it made her finally glance up. He wasn't pressing, wasn't demanding answers she wasn't ready to give. He was just there, steady as ever.

She exhaled, gathering the courage to say what had been sitting heavy in her chest for weeks now. "I don't know how to do this."

His brow furrowed slightly. "Do what?"

She gestured vaguely between them. "This. Us. Whatever this is."

He was quiet for a long moment, and she braced herself for the part where he decided maybe it wasn't worth the trouble.

Instead, he smiled. Soft. Sure. "We don't have to have it figured out."

She let out a small, nervous laugh. "That's what you always say."

"Because it's true." He nudged her knee lightly. "I'm not expecting you to wake up one day and suddenly be perfect at this, you know."

She hesitated. "But what if—"

"What if you mess up?" he finished for her. "What if you push me away? What if this scares you?"

She swallowed hard. "Yeah."

He held her gaze. "Then I'll remind you why I stayed in the first place."

Her throat tightened.

Because that was the thing, wasn't it? He had stayed. Even when she made it difficult, even when she hesitated at every turn—he had stayed.

And maybe… maybe she didn't have to figure everything out today. Maybe it was okay to just take it one step at a time.

She looked at him, really looked at him, and felt something settle in her chest.

"Okay," she said quietly.

His lips curved into a soft smile. "Okay."

A comfortable silence stretched between them as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. She didn't say anything else, and neither did he.

But she shifted a little closer.

And for now, that was enough.

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