Chapter Fifteen — Not-So-Slow Burn
(Inara's pov)
The rain had stopped by the time I walked up the path to Elias's house again. The air smelled like wet grass and freshly baked cookies, and the sky was painted in soft pastel streaks. I was carrying my notebook and a thermos of tea — our unofficial "study fuel."
He opened the door before I could knock, grinning like he'd been waiting for me. "Back so soon? You know, this is starting to feel like a full-time job."
"Full-time job?" I teased, stepping inside. "I thought we were professionals at this by now."
"Professionals at what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Flirting while writing?"
I groaned, setting down my bag. "Ridiculous. And yes, clearly we're exceptional at that too."
We settled on the living room floor again, notebooks spread around us like we were claiming the territory of creative genius. The first hour passed in a blur of laughter, scribbled lines, and small arguments over whether Elara should trip on destiny or get trapped in an awkward bookstore situation.
"You know," Elias said, leaning closer to peek at my page, "we really are the slowest slow-burn romance ever."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Slow-burn? Please. We've practically been holding hands since the rain incident. And now we're… this," I gestured vaguely at the floor between us.
He smirked. "True. This is basically canon now. Not-so-slow burn."
I snorted. "Exactly! And honestly? I don't mind."
We paused for a tea break, and he handed me my thermos. His fingers brushed mine, and I felt that familiar spark.
"You know," he said, leaning back on his elbows, "I could get used to this. You. Here. Us."
I smiled softly. "Me too."
He tilted his head, playful and teasing. "You know what this officially makes us?"
"What?" I asked, curious.
"Power couple material," he whispered, grinning. "And the first ever literary duo who can't stop staring at each other."
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my tea. "You are ridiculous!"
"Am I?" he asked, eyes glinting. "Or are you just realizing how charming I am?"
"Definitely both," I admitted, shaking my head but smiling wide.
After a few more chapters, we ended up lying on the carpet, notebooks stacked beside us, sharing ideas in whispers so we wouldn't wake Marco, who had fallen asleep on the couch with a superhero cape tangled around him.
"You know," I said, tracing a line in my notebook absentmindedly, "I think… I might like you. Just a little."
He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be shocked. "Just a little?"
"Yes, very little. Practically unnoticeable," I teased, elbowing him lightly.
He caught my hand and held it, thumb brushing over mine. "Unnoticeable, huh? Because I think I might… love you."
My chest did that full-flip thing, and I couldn't stop the smile. "You mean… like actually?"
"Yes. Actually." His voice was quiet, sure, soft, but steady.
I laughed, heart fluttering. "Wow. You really can't help making a dramatic entrance, can you?"
"Nope," he said, leaning closer. "And now it's official. Not-so-slow burn. Full-on fire."
We spent the rest of the afternoon teasing each other mercilessly.
"You're ridiculous," I said, pushing his shoulder.
"Ridiculous?" he asked, mock-offended. "I think you mean spectacularly perfect."
I rolled my eyes, grinning. "Sure. Spectacularly perfect. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"Hey," he said, nudging me gently, "if our love story were a book, I'd call it Instantly on Fire: The Not-So-Slow Burn."
I laughed so hard I nearly fell sideways onto the carpet. "That's… honestly, maybe too accurate."
He smiled at me, eyes soft, and for a moment, all the jokes and teasing faded. "You know… I mean it. I love you, Inara."
My heart thudded, and I whispered back, "I love you too, Elias."
And just like that, our cozy writing session became something more — warm, soft, and entirely ours. Between the laughter, the teasing, and the quiet moments, I realized that slow-burn or not, we had already ignited a fire that would be impossible to put out.
By the time I left, the sunset had painted the sky in shades of gold and lavender. Elias walked me to the gate, holding my hand lightly.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked, voice teasing but soft.
"Same time," I said, squeezing his hand. "Full-on fire and all."
He grinned, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "Full-on fire indeed."
And as I walked home, notebook under my arm, heart soaring, I knew that this was only the beginning — of our story, our laughter, our love.
End of Chapter Fifteen