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Chapter 35 - 35

The quiet stretched between us.

Not the awkward kind—the kind that makes your skin itch or your mind race for something, anything, to fill it. No. This quiet felt... suspended. Fragile in a way I didn't want to disturb. Like if either of us moved too fast or said the wrong thing, we might shatter it—and with it, whatever this strange, tentative thing between us was becoming.

Jaerin sat beside me, legs stretched out long in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. His elbows were braced behind him, spine curved just enough to say he was relaxed—but his pinky kept brushing mine, like it hadn't decided if it wanted to be bold or behave.

His hoodie sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. I could see the faint marks of old scars and sun on his skin, things you only noticed if you were looking closely.

And I was definitely looking.

"Okay," I said suddenly, blurting it out to cut the silence before it got too heavy. "What's your favorite color?"

He blinked. Turned his head toward me, slow, confused. "What?"

I shrugged, eyes flicking to the city skyline. Lights blinked far away like stars fallen to earth. "Favorite color. Simple question. No tricks."

His brow furrowed. "Why do I feel like this is a trick?"

"Because you're paranoid."

He narrowed his eyes. "Is this some kind of test?"

"Yes," I said solemnly. "Answer wrong and you'll be permanently banned from all future rooftop privileges."

That pulled a small smile from him. A real one. "Navy."

I made a noise of dramatic disapproval. "Boring."

He raised a brow. "Oh yeah? What's yours then, your majesty of taste?"

"Celestial gold," I replied without missing a beat.

He looked at me like I'd grown two extra heads. "That's not a real color."

"It is," I insisted, flipping my hair like I was a queen. "If you believe hard enough."

He snorted. "You're actually insane."

I leaned back on my elbows, smirking. "You like it."

He didn't deny it.

The wind picked up, soft but cool, tugging at the ends of my braids and ruffling his dark hair. He didn't seem to notice. I turned my head to look at him—and found him already watching me.

Not in that way boys usually stare. Not hungry or possessive. Just... curious. Cautious. Like I was a puzzle he wasn't sure he was allowed to solve yet.

He didn't look away when I caught him.

My heart stuttered.

"What's your favorite song?" I asked next, voice quieter now.

He inhaled, thoughtful. "There's this old R&B track from like, 2009? I don't know. I found it on some random playlist when I couldn't sleep one night. It's soft. A little sad. Makes me feel like I'm seventeen again."

"You were seventeen like three years ago."

"Exactly," he said, cracking a grin.

I smiled too. Couldn't help it. "Okay, next—favorite food?"

He gave me a side glance. "Are we seriously doing twenty questions?"

"No," I said. Then reconsidered. "Well... maybe. I just wanna get to know you, I guess. Too much?"

His shoulders shifted. A small movement. But I noticed the way his gaze dropped for a second, how his jaw clenched like the question had hit something raw.

Then he said, almost shyly, "Beef burgers."

I blinked. "Seriously?"

"I mean..." He shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's comfort food. It makes me happy."

"Cute," I said, dragging out the word like a tease.

He muttered something under his breath and crossed his arms, but I saw the way the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"Fine," he mumbled. "Maybe a little."

I bumped my foot against his.

He looked at me again. This time—really looked. His expression shifted—just slightly—but enough that something in me went still.

"Your eyes," he said, voice low. "They're silver."

I blinked. "Yeah. My dad says I got them from my mom. Weird, right?"

"They're not weird," he murmured. "They're... unreal. Like moonlight. Beautiful."

The way he said it—soft, stunned, like the words surprised even him—made something flutter violently in my chest.

I looked away. Fast. Focusing on the skyline again, on the flickering lights and the gentle hum of the city below. On anything but him. Because if I looked back, I wasn't sure I'd be able to breathe right.

"You talk more than I expected," I said after a moment.

"You ask good questions."

That earned him a smile. A real one.

And then we just... sat there. Quiet again. But not unsteady this time.

This silence was something else.

Safe.

Comfortable.

His shoulder brushed mine and neither of us moved away. His pinky—traitor that it was—grazed mine again, and this time I let mine lean in. Just a little.

Not much. Barely anything at all.

But it felt like something.

Something real.

And maybe that was enough.

Maybe it didn't have to be a confession or a kiss or a wild, sweeping promise. Maybe it could just be this.

Two people.

One rooftop.

A slow unraveling of guarded hearts and hesitant words.

Maybe it was just us—figuring it out.

One awkward question at a time.

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"Your eyes are silver," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Like the most beautiful shade of silver I've ever seen."

She laughed—quiet and a little breathless, as if she wasn't sure how to take the compliment. Her fingers fidgeted with the fraying hem of her jeans, and she looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

But I meant it. Every word.

Not just beautiful—unsettling in the best way. Like moonlight trapped in storm clouds.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but something else—thick, charged. My gaze stayed on her while she tried to compose herself. And when she inhaled a little too sharply, I felt Dal still inside me.

No—not still.

Focused.

Like a hunter scenting something long lost.

I didn't understand it, not fully, but something inside my chest shifted. A hum in my bones. Dal wasn't just reacting to her presence; he was recognizing her. Like this moment had already happened before, and he'd just been waiting for it to catch up again.

And then—

There it was.

The pull.

Not subtle. Not gradual. Like something beneath my skin had been yanked toward her all at once. Like gravity had rewritten itself around Dwyn.

I felt Dal push at the edge of me, impatient. Restless. My fingers flexed, itching to reach for her, and my gaze flicked to her face.

Dwyn was breathing shallow now, chest rising and falling a little too fast.

I knew then—it wasn't just me.

Dawn was rising in her too.

I couldn't hear her wolf the way I could hear Dal, but I felt her. In the prickle of energy skating across my skin. In the way Dwyn's shoulders tensed, like she was fighting a command from somewhere deep inside.

I didn't mean to lean in.

I really didn't.

But my hand brushed hers—lightly, tentatively—and she didn't move.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't pull away.

She looked at me then, really looked, and her eyes were wide and shining in the rooftop haze. The city below us buzzed, uncaring, but up here—it was just us.

Dal prowled in my chest, pacing hard. Do It. he growled.

"Back off," I warned, but my voice was lost in the roar of my pulse.

Dwyn's eyes dropped to my mouth.

Her lips parted, just barely.

I stopped breathing altogether.

Her head tilted, and for a moment I thought—maybe—maybe—

My fingers reached for her cheek—

Just—

Just—

"Dal," she whispered, her voice cracking like dry twigs.

Everything snapped.

I blinked. Air came rushing back into my lungs like a punch to the chest.

What the hell Dal....I thought we agreed no more taking over my body.

She pulled back slightly, enough to shift the balance.

Her cheeks flushed as she glanced down, arms wrapping around her knees like a shield.

"You felt that too, right?" she asked, voice soft and a little shaken.

I nodded, swallowing. "Yeah. That wasn't just us, our wolves are making the moves for us."

"Dawn's getting bossy," she muttered, not looking at me. "She keeps... reaching. Pushing."

"Dal too," I admitted. "Like he's already made the decision for me."

She looked over, startled. "And you?"

I hesitated. "I haven't figured it out yet."

We sat in silence for a while, the city lights flickering like stars below us.

Then I said it—too quickly, too stupidly:

"That was almost a kiss."

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Jaerin. Don't say it out loud."

"Too late," I said, trying not to grin. "It happened. Kind of."

She peeked through her fingers. "Would it have been... that bad?"

I looked at her—nervous fingers, wide silver eyes that made my chest ache—and said honestly, "No."

She flushed again, turning toward the skyline like she could hide in the dark.

"We're so bad at this," she whispered.

"Terrible," I agreed.

Come on Jaerinnnn!!

Dal stop being so annoying

Dal wouldn't stop pacing, and in the back of my mind, I could still feel the ghost of her breath against my lips.

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