It had been two weeks since the rain.
Two Thursdays of books, silence, and glances that lingered a little too long.
Elena told herself it was still nothing. Told herself that the warmth she felt beside Adrian wasn't anything real—that it was just proximity, maybe comfort. A shared rhythm. A phase.
But then he did things like… pause.
Pause before handing her a book.Pause when their eyes met too long.Pause like he wanted to say something, then chose not to.
And it was in those pauses that her heart misbehaved.
It was late afternoon when she arrived at the library, a little earlier than usual.
Adrian was already there.
This time, he wasn't reading. He was sketching.
She stood at the doorway of the reading nook, silently watching him. A half-filled notebook rested on his knee, pencil dancing gently in his hand. He didn't notice her yet. His brows were furrowed, hair falling over one eye, and something in his focus tugged at her chest.
"Should I come back later?" she asked softly.
He looked up—and something flickered across his face. Not a smile exactly. Something quieter.
"No. Stay."
She did.
She sat beside him, but didn't open a book. Instead, she watched the page.
"Do you draw often?" she asked.
He turned the notebook slightly, showing her rough sketches of a coffee cup, a rain-drenched window, a curled-up cat. In the middle was a profile—her, reading near the window.
"That's me," she said, startled.
"You're easy to draw," he murmured.
Her heart stammered.
"You see me enough to memorize my face?" she teased, trying to keep the moment light.
He didn't answer. But his silence said more than words would have.
The afternoon unfolded slowly.
They sat with books resting on their laps, barely read. The light outside shifted from golden to gray, casting long shadows across the wooden floor.
Their legs brushed once.
Then again.
Neither moved.
Elena leaned back against the bookshelf, sighing quietly.
"You ever feel like there's something just… waiting?" she asked, her voice low.
Adrian turned his head toward her. "Waiting for what?"
"I don't know. A moment. A decision. Like the air's too still and it's because the next thing is about to change everything."
He was quiet for a long time.
"Yes," he said finally. "I feel that. Right now."
She met his eyes.
They stared.
And in the hush of the room, something shifted.
Adrian leaned in—not much. Barely. Like a man still unsure if he was allowed to breathe near her. His eyes dropped to her lips. Then back to her eyes.
"Elena," he whispered, voice thick.
She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Her hand reached his—not by accident this time. Her fingers curled around his gently.
His thumb grazed the inside of her wrist, slow, soft. Her breath hitched.
The air between them trembled.
He leaned closer.
And just when their lips were a breath apart—
The clock struck five.
A chime echoed through the library. Loud. Jarring.
They both pulled back like waking from a dream.
She exhaled shakily. "Right. Time."
Adrian stood and stepped away, jaw tense. "Yeah."
She followed suit, brushing her coat off her arm.
"This isn't… nothing," she said suddenly.
He paused.
"I know."
"But you're not saying anything."
"Because if I do…" He looked down. "I might not stop."
The words struck through her.
And even though they didn't kiss, her lips burned like they had.
That night, Elena couldn't sleep.
She stared at the ceiling, replaying the moment again and again. The way his voice dropped. The heat in his gaze. The way her whole body had leaned in without permission.
Her fingers tingled. Her heart thudded.
They had been a whisper away from something real.
[End of Chapter 4]