The walk back to the hotel was quiet, calm, and strangely reassuring. The air was warm, the sound of the ocean fading behind us as we walked through the streets, our classmates still laughing and chatting around us. But I barely registered any of it.

I was exhausted.

Between dinner, the party, and whatever the hell that moment in the ocean had been, my body and mind felt completely drained. But for the first time in a long time, it wasn't the kind of exhaustion that came from stress or overthinking.

It was just... peaceful.

Bryan walked beside me, hands in his pockets, keeping his usual steady, unreadable expression. But there was something different now. The tension that had always lingered between us—the sharp edges, the constant push and pull—felt softer. Like we had finally settled into something we didn't need to fight anymore.

When we finally reached the hotel, I didn't even bother saying goodnight to anyone. The second we got inside, I grabbed some clothes from my suitcase and headed straight for the bathroom.

The hot water felt heavenly, washing away the salt and sand from my skin, soothing the ache in my legs. But I didn't linger. I was too tired to do anything but go through the motions, drying off quickly, pulling on my pajamas—a loose t-shirt and soft shorts—and heading straight for bed.

I barely noticed Bryan moving around the room as I climbed under the covers, my body immediately melting into the mattress.

The door to the bathroom opened, and I heard the sound of water running—Bryan's turn.

I sighed into my pillow, feeling myself drift already.

But before I could completely fall asleep, the bed dipped beside me.

I blinked, forcing my eyes open slightly.

Bryan was shirtless, his damp hair messy from the shower, a towel still slung over his shoulder as he climbed into bed beside me like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I stared.

He caught me immediately, smirking as he turned off the bedside lamp. "Enjoying the view?"

I scoffed, turning on my side. "You wish."

Bryan slid under the covers, settling in beside me, his body warm from the shower.

I turned away from him, getting comfortable, already half-asleep.

His arm draped over my waist, pulling me back against him.

I froze.

Bryan let out a low, amused hum, his breath brushing my shoulder. "Relax, birthday girl."

I swallowed, my heart picking up slightly. "What are you doing?"

His voice was too casual. "Cuddling you."

I blinked, unsure how to respond. "Why?"

Bryan chuckled, his arm tightening around me slightly, his face nuzzling into the back of my neck. "Because you looked like you needed it."

I did.

But I wasn't going to tell him that.

I huffed, pretending to be annoyed as I let myself relax into his hold. "You're so full of yourself."

Bryan made a noise in the back of his throat, his fingers brushing absently against my stomach.

"Maybe."

Silence settled between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was nice.

I felt my body growing heavier, sleep pulling me under.

And then—just as I was about to drift off completely—Bryan's voice came, low, barely a whisper.

"You're mine now, Amber."

A sleepy smile tugged at my lips, my fingers curling over his where they rested on my stomach.

"Yeah," I whispered back. "I know."

As I lay there, curled against Bryan's warmth, the exhaustion slowly pulling me under, I felt him shift slightly behind me.

His arm was still draped over my waist, holding me close and steady, like he had no plans of letting go. His breath was warm against the back of my neck, his fingers absently tracing slow circles against my stomach.

I sighed, completely content for the first time in a long time.

Then Bryan moved again, leaning back just enough to grab something from the nightstand.

I frowned sleepily, half-turning toward him. "What are you doing?"

Bryan didn't answer immediately. Instead, I felt something small and solid press against my palm.

I blinked, forcing myself to wake up a little more. "What's this?"

"Your birthday gift."

I stared down at it, still groggy, my fingers wrapping around the small black box now sitting in my hand.

My heart skipped.

Bryan had gotten me a gift?

I turned my head to look at him, surprised, confused, and a little overwhelmed. "When did you—?"

He smirked slightly, watching me with lazy amusement. "Open it."

I swallowed, sitting up slightly, my fingers shaky as I lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled in soft black velvet, was a silver pendant necklace.

The charm was small, delicate, and shaped like a tiny, intricate compass.

My throat tightened instantly.

Bryan, always watching me closer than I realized, must have noticed, because he nudged me lightly with his knee. "You don't like it?"

I shook my head quickly. "No, I—I love it."

I traced the pendant lightly with my fingertip, the details so precise, so thoughtful.

A compass.

It wasn't just pretty. It meant something.

I bit my lip, swallowing against the sudden wave of emotion creeping up my throat.

Bryan shifted beside me, his voice lower now, more serious. "You said once that you feel lost sometimes."

I sucked in a sharp breath.

I did say that.

It had been months ago, in a rare moment of honesty—one of those conversations where I had let something slip, something real, something raw.

I had told him how I sometimes felt like I didn't know where I was going, like I had no real direction.

I had never expected him to remember.

Bryan's fingers brushed my wrist gently. "So, now you have a way to find your way back."

I let out a soft, shaky laugh, blinking quickly to keep my eyes from fully tearing up.

God, I hated him.

And I really, really liked him.

I turned toward him, my lips pressing together tightly as I tried to keep my emotions under control.

Bryan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "You gonna cry?"

I glared through my blurry vision. "Shut up."

His smirk softened, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my head gently, grounding me.

"Happy birthday, Amber."

I inhaled slowly, letting the warmth of the moment settle in my chest.

Then, without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him.

Soft and quick, just enough to say thank you, just enough to let him know how much this meant to me.

Bryan pulled back slightly, his smirk returning as he studied my face.

"Damn," he muttered. "I should buy you gifts more often."

I rolled my eyes, huffing out a breath as I settled back against his chest, tucking myself under his arm.

His laughter was quiet, rumbling against my back, before he pressed a soft kiss against my hair.

His fingers traced slow circles on my waist, his breathing even, steady.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel lost.

I felt found.

—--------

The trip ended faster than I expected.

The last days in Costa Rica had been a blur of moments I wanted to hold onto forever.

Bryan and I didn't label anything right away, but we also didn't hide it. Not from each other, not from anyone.

We spent our last days together like we had always belonged there—in late-night beach walks, in teasing remarks over breakfast, in the way his hand always seemed to find mine when no one was looking.

The first thing I did when we got back was talk to my mom.

I don't know why I was nervous—she had always been supportive, always wanted to see me happy. But something about saying it out loud, officially telling her I was with Bryan, made it feel more real.

I called her on the way to my dorm, my suitcase rolling behind me, my heart hammering against my ribs.

She listened quietly, humming in that way she did when she was thinking.

"So, he's the one that annoyed you for months?" she finally said, suspicion laced in her tone.

I sighed. "Yes, that's him."

"And now you're dating?"

"...Yes."

A pause.

Then, she laughed.

Like full-on, can't-hold-it-in laughter.

I groaned, covering my face. "Mom."

"I knew it," she said between laughs. "You always talked about him with too much passion for it to be pure hatred."

I wanted to die.

But she was happy for me. And I knew she meant it when she told me, "I trust you to know what's good for you. Just don't let him distract you from ballet."

The next conversation, however, was so much worse.

Because Isabella.

"Oh my God," she screamed when I told her. Actually screamed.

Then, I had to sit through an entire lecture about how she "knew it all along" and "was waiting for me to admit it" and how I was so clueless it was painful to watch.

I tried to argue, but she had receipts.

"I was literally there when you panicked about babysitting his little sister," she reminded me. "You've been doomed since day one."

I rolled my eyes. "Are you done?"

"Absolutely not," she said, smirking like she had just won the lottery.

But despite the teasing, she was excited for me. She grilled me about every single moment from the trip, wanted every detail about the night at the beach, and when she finally calmed down, she just smiled and said, "I'm happy for you, Ambs. Really."

That meant everything.

Now, almost a week later, I was standing outside the dance studio with Bryan, heart pounding, nerves taking over.

This was my first practice since the injury.

Bryan was walking beside me, his hands in his pockets, but I could feel him watching me.

"You look like you're gonna throw up," he finally said.

I shot him a glare. "Thanks."

He smirked. "Just saying. Do I need to carry you in?"

I huffed, adjusting the strap of my dance bag. "I'm fine."

Bryan stopped walking, stepping in front of me so I had to meet his eyes.

I hesitated.

His expression was calmer now, more serious.

"You're nervous," he said.

I sighed, looking at the entrance to the studio. "Of course I am. What if I'm not as strong as before? What if I can't keep up? What if—"

"Stop."

His fingers brushed against mine before he took my hand, holding it firmly.

"You're going to be fine." His voice was steady, certain. "You've worked too hard for this. And even if today isn't perfect, it's just the first day back. You'll get there."

I looked at him, taking in the way he wasn't joking this time, the way he really meant it.

Something inside me eased.

I exhaled slowly, nodding.

Bryan smirked, leaning down slightly. "Besides, if you fall on your ass, I'm definitely gonna laugh."

I groaned, shoving him lightly. "You're the worst."

He chuckled, stepping back. "But I'm right."

I rolled my eyes but squeezed his hand before letting go.

He didn't move right away, just watched as I took a deep breath and walked toward the entrance.

Before I stepped inside, he called after me—

"Go kick ass, Ballerina."

I smiled.