I wasn't expecting her to kiss me.

I wasn't expecting any of this.

But the second Olivia's lips touched mine, every thought I'd been holding back unraveled all at once.

It wasn't like the kind of kisses I was used to—the ones that were rushed, fleeting, easily forgettable. This was different. This was careful. *Real*.

And that scared the hell out of me.

But I kissed her back anyway.

Her hands hovered hesitantly against my chest, like she wasn't sure if she should pull me closer or push me away. So I made the decision for her, sliding my hands around her waist and tugging her against me.

She let out a quiet breath—half-surprised, half-relieved—and I felt it more than I heard it.

I wanted to memorize this.

The way she felt. The way she tasted—like coffee and something sweet. The way her fingers curled slightly against my shirt when she hesitated, like she was afraid of letting go.

I wasn't sure how long we stood there, wrapped up in something that felt too big to name. But when she finally pulled back, her eyes met mine, wide and uncertain.

"Max," she whispered, like she wasn't sure what to say next.

So I made it easy for her.

"You don't have to say anything," I murmured. "Not if you don't want to."

She let out a shaky breath and nodded.

And just like that, she turned and slipped inside her apartment, leaving me standing there with my head spinning and my heart hammering against my ribs.

I was in trouble.

Because this wasn't just something.

This was everything.

***

The next morning, I woke up still thinking about her.

About the way she kissed me. About the way she looked at me afterward, like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

I didn't know what that kiss meant.

I just knew I wanted more.

But I also knew Olivia.

She was careful. Guarded. Always one step away from running. If I pushed too hard, she'd disappear before I had the chance to figure out what this *was*.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I gave her space.

For the next couple of days, I stayed away—not because I wanted to, but because I knew she needed time to figure things out.

And maybe, just maybe, I needed time too.

Because the truth was, I'd spent my whole life avoiding things that felt permanent. I never stayed in one place too long. Never let anyone get too close.

And now, without even meaning to, Olivia had changed all of that.

She made me want to stay.

She made me want to try.

And that scared me more than anything.

***

By the time I finally saw her again, it was almost a week later.

She was at the bookstore, standing in front of the mural we had painted together. Her fingers traced the edges of the colors, like she was still trying to convince herself it was real.

I leaned against the doorway, watching her.

"You gonna stare at it forever?" I asked.

She jumped slightly, then turned to face me. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something in her eyes—something quiet and careful.

"I like looking at it," she said softly.

I stepped inside, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Yeah. Me too."

We stood there in silence, the space between us filled with things we weren't saying.

I didn't want to wait anymore.

"Olivia," I said, my voice lower now.

She inhaled sharply. "Max—"

"Tell me what you're thinking," I said, stepping closer. "Because I haven't stopped thinking about that night. About you."

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into her sweater sleeves. "I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

She hesitated. "This. Us.Whatever this is."

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "I don't know how to do this either. But that doesn't mean I don't want to."

Her eyes flickered to mine. "And if I don't know what I want?"

I nodded slowly, taking in her words.

I could walk away right now. I could tell her it's fine, that it doesn't matter, that we can go back to pretending like that kiss never happened.

But that would be a lie.

And I didn't want to lie to her.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I told the truth.

"I think you do know," I said quietly. "I just think you're scared."

She flinched, like the words hit too close to home. "Maybe I am."

I took another step forward, closing the space between us. "Then let me prove to you that this isn't something to be scared of."

Her breath hitched.

She was on the edge of something—I could see it in her eyes.

And for a moment, I thought she was going to run.

But then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against mine.

It wasn't much.

But it was something.

And for now, that was enough.

***

That night, we ended up at my apartment.

Not for anything more, but just to be.

She sat on my couch, her legs tucked beneath her, her fingers wrapped around a mug of tea.

I sat next to her, close enough that our arms almost touched.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

Then, quietly, she said, "I used to think love was supposed to be perfect."

I turned to face her. "Yeah?"

She nodded, staring down into her mug. "But I don't think that anymore. I think... I think maybe love is just about finding someone who makes you feel safe being exactly who you are."

Something in my chest tightened.

I wasn't sure if she meant me.

But I hoped she did.

"That's a good way to put it," I said softly.

She looked at me then, and in that moment, I knew.

And this time, when I kissed her, she didn't hesitate.

She kissed me like she had already made up her mind.

Like she had already decided.

And maybe, just maybe, so had I.