Lori.

The city looks different from up here. Still, as if it's exhaling with me. Marcelina leans against my side, her hand in mine.

The party is still going on below, but we’ve slipped away like teenagers sneaking out of prom. She said she needed air, and I didn’t argue.

I would follow her anywhere, even to the ends of the earth.

Her silence doesn't bother me now. It feels like the quiet that comes after a storm, the kind where you can see the wreckage but also the first hints of rebuilding.

I glance at her. Her jaw is set, her eyes fixed on something I can’t see, but her grip on my hand is firm. She’s still here, holding on. I know better than to push her to talk; she’ll speak when she’s ready.

Until then, I’ll wait.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she says.

“Neither did I,” I admit. “But then I thought about what would happen if I didn’t. About never getting the chance to make this right.”

She turns to look at me, her expression unreadable. “And what if it hadn’t worked? What if I’d walked away?”

I give her a crooked smile. “Then I would’ve kept showing up until you couldn’t ignore me. You know I’m stubborn like that.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are.”

She falls quiet again, her gaze drifting back to the city below. I take a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs, and I know this is the moment. The one where everything either falls apart or falls into place.

“I’m not good at this,” I say, my voice low. “I’ve spent so much of my life running from things that scare me—love scares me. Loving you scares me, so I wanted to run. But I’m done running, Marcel. I want to stay. With you.”

Her eyes soften, but there’s still a hesitation I’ve earned. “How do I know you mean it this time?”

“You don’t,” I say honestly. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if I have to.”

Her lips twitch, she’s fighting a smile. “That’s a lot of time.”

“I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.”

She lets out a soft laugh, and it feels like the sun breaking through clouds. “You’re so dumb.”

“Only for you,” I say, and this time, she doesn’t hold back the smile.

We stand there for a while. I want to freeze this moment, to hold onto the way her fingers curl around mine.

But then she turns to me, her expression serious. “Lori, if we do this—if we really do this—you need to know something.”

I nod, my heart is hammering. “Anything.”

Her voice is steady, but there’s a vulnerability in her eyes that makes my chest ache.

“I’m terrified. Of losing you, of messing this up, of...My family...i have responsibilities and...”

I step closer, my free hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face.

“Me too,” I whisper. “But we’re not I'm ready to try and be better for you.”

She exhales.

“Okay,” she says softly. “We both are trying.”

And then she kisses me softly. It's short and sweet but worth the wait.

When we pull apart, her forehead rests against mine, and I can feel her breath on my lips.

“Lorian Dao,” she murmurs, a ghost of a smile on her face. “You’re something.”

“Is that a good thing?” I ask.

She laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in weeks.

"We should get out of here," she says instead and I don't hesitate.

The noise of the party fades into the background as we step into the elevator.

Marcel’s hand is still in mine.

The doors close.

She glances at me, her eyes dark and searching, and I know what she wants.

Neither of us speaks, but the silence is anything but empty. It’s thick with anticipation, with all the words we don’t need to say because the way she’s looking at me says everything.

As the elevator ascends, I pull her closer, closing the small space between us.

My free hand brushes against hers, then trails up her arm, fingers ghosting over the soft fabric of her dress.

She exhales sharply, her lips parting, and I feel her body lean into mine.

“Lori…” she whispers, her voice small.

“Yeah?” I murmur, my hand now resting lightly on her waist.

She doesn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, she pulls me closer, her other hand coming up to cup my jaw.

I lean in.

“Tell me to stop,” I say, my voice rough. “If this isn’t what you want...”

Her lips curve into a small teasing smile. “If I wanted you to stop, I wouldn’t be this close.”

That’s all I need to hear.

I close the distance, my lips finding hers in a kiss that’s slow but quickly deepens as the tension between us snaps. Her fingers slide into my hair, pulling me closer, and I can feel the heat of her body against mine, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

The elevator dings, signaling our destination, but neither of us moves. The doors slide open, then shut again when we don’t step out.

“Marcel,” I breathe against her lips, my hands gripping her hips. “We’re going to miss our stop.”

“Good,” she murmurs, her voice laced with desire. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Her words send a shiver down my spine, and I press her back against the elevator wall, my hands sliding down to her thighs. She gasps softly, her nails digging into my shoulders, and it’s like every nerve in my body is on fire.

I pull her dress up, my eyes glued to hers, seeking permission and she nods. With my forefinger I push the fabric of her pa toes to the side and dive head first betweens her legs.

"Fuck," she lets out as her hands dig into my hair.

The elevator stops again, and this time, we stumble out, laughing breathlessly as we make our way to the garage.

She fumbles with her car keys, her hands shaking slightly, and I can’t resist leaning in to kiss the side of her neck, eliciting a soft moan from her.

“You’re not making this any easier,” she mutters.

We settle in the backseat of her car and I know we should take this somewhere else but I can't wait.

"Open them," I order and I can tell she just shivered at how horny I sound.

She's surprisingly good with following orders tonight, so she does.
And I'm back on her, picking up from where I left off in the elevator.

“God, Lori,” she breathes as I bring her to her climax. “You drive me insane.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” I manage to say with a muffled voice.

When she is finally down, I offer to drive and she doesn't argue. The drive to her place is not peaceful at all, she keeps grabbing my thigh, playing with my ear, biting and whispering sweet nothings that make the inside of my thighs wet.

In her house, we move together toward the bed, her lips never leaving mine, and when she pushes me down onto the mattress, I let her take control.

There’s something different about this—something raw and unguarded. It’s not just about the heat or the chemistry, though that’s there in spades. It’s about us stepping into something new.

Her hands trail down my sides, her touch igniting a fire in me.

I arch into her, my fingers tangling in her hair as she leans down to kiss me again.

My lips are swollen but I reach for her, pulling her closer, and she lets out a soft laugh.

“Impatient, much?” she teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in her voice.

“Always,” I reply, my hands sliding under her dress to cup her breasts. “Especially when it comes to you.”

She shivers under my touch, her breath hitching, and I take my time exploring every inch of her, committing every reaction to memory.

"I love you," she whispers on my lips.

I want to get cocky and say, I know, but I don't. I kiss her harder instead.

"I love you too."

She pulls back to look at me.

"Stay."

I shake my head.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise.

And for the first time in my life, I think mean it.

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