By evening, the campus had quieted.
The kind of quiet that felt deceptive—like everything was calm only because it had already burned through its chaos. Ava walked slowly toward the dorms, her bag slung over one shoulder, her mind still heavy with everything she hadn't said.
Nicholas walked beside her.
Not touching.
Not crowding.
Just… there.
And somehow, that presence felt louder than any hand on her waist ever could.
"You don't have to walk me," she said after a few minutes.
"I know."
"But you are."
"Yes."
She glanced at him. "Why?"
Nicholas didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed forward, hands tucked into his jacket pockets like he was holding himself back from something.
"Because today wasn't small," he said finally. "And neither are you."
Her steps slowed.
He stopped when she did.
The lamppost above them flickered on, casting soft light across his face. He looked different like this—less guarded, more human.
"I don't like that you had to deal with that alone," he continued. "Even for a few hours."
"I wasn't alone," Ava said quietly. "You were there."
His jaw tightened slightly. "I should've been sooner."
Something about that cracked open a place in her chest she'd been protecting.
"Nicholas," she said softly, "you can't fix everything."
"I know." His eyes met hers. "But that doesn't stop me from trying."
Silence settled between them—not awkward, just heavy with everything they were both circling around and refusing to say outright.
Ava broke it first.
"Do you ever get tired of being… you?" she asked.
A faint, surprised smile tugged at his mouth. "All the time."
She blinked. "Really?"
"People think confidence means certainty," he said. "Most days, it's just armor."
That startled her.
She studied him more closely now—the way his shoulders held tension even at rest, the way his eyes constantly tracked movement, threat, reaction.
"You don't let many people see that," she said.
"No." He paused. "You're different."
Her breath caught. "How?"
"Because you don't want something from me," he said honestly. "You don't want my name, my attention, my reputation. You don't even want me to fix things for you."
She swallowed. "I don't want to need anyone."
Nicholas's voice softened. "Needing someone isn't weakness. Depending on them blindly is."
She thought about that.
About how she'd spent so long proving she could stand alone that she'd never asked herself what it would feel like not to have to.
They resumed walking.
Near her dorm, Ava stopped again.
"This is me," she said.
Nicholas nodded, but didn't move away.
The air between them shifted.
Not tense.
Charged.
She hugged her bag closer, suddenly aware of how quiet it was, how alone they were, how aware she was of him.
"Thank you," she said. "For today. For… everything."
"You don't owe me thanks," he replied.
"I know. But I want to say it anyway."
He studied her face, searching, like he was deciding something.
"Ava," he said slowly, "can I ask you something?"
Her heart jumped. "Okay."
"Are you scared of me," he asked, "or of how you feel when you're around me?"
The question hit harder than she expected.
She looked down.
Then back up.
"I think," she said carefully, "I'm scared of how easy it feels."
Nicholas exhaled.
"Good," he said quietly.
She frowned. "Good?"
"Yes." His gaze held hers. "Because easy doesn't mean shallow. It means honest."
Her pulse raced.
He stepped closer—not invading her space, just close enough that the warmth of him wrapped around her.
"I won't push you," he said. "But I won't pretend I don't want you either."
Her lips parted.
She hadn't expected that. Not the clarity. Not the calm certainty behind it.
"What if I mess this up?" she whispered.
Nicholas smiled faintly. "Then we deal with it."
"We?"
"Yes." His voice dropped. "I don't do half-steps."
That word again.
We.
Ava felt something shift—something realigning inside her.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, she stepped closer too.
Their hands brushed.
Neither of them pulled away.
The moment stretched.
Nicholas looked down at her, eyes dark, searching for permission he refused to take without being given.
"Ava," he murmured, "tell me to stop if you want me to."
Her heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it.
She shook her head.
He didn't kiss her immediately.
Instead, he lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—gentle, reverent, like the smallest touch meant everything.
That's when it hit her.
This wasn't about heat.
It was about intention.
When he finally kissed her, it was slow. Careful. Nothing like the party. Nothing reckless.
His lips pressed to hers like he was memorizing the moment.
Ava melted into it before she could think.
Her hands fisted lightly in his jacket, grounding herself, anchoring herself to the reality of him.
When they pulled apart, her forehead rested against his chest.
Neither spoke.
They didn't need to.
After a moment, Nicholas whispered, "Go inside."
She smiled faintly. "Bossy."
"Protective," he corrected softly.
She hesitated—then nodded.
As she turned toward the dorm entrance, she glanced back.
Nicholas was still there, watching her like she mattered.
And for the first time since Westbridge—
Ava didn't feel like she was standing alone in the noise.
She felt chosen.