The walk back felt unreal.
Cassian's hand stayed on my lower back, guiding me through the dark like he'd earned the right. I didn't shake it off.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"I think," I said, "I just burned down a version of my life."
He smiled faintly. "You looked good doing it."
At his place, the door barely closed before the silence swallowed us.
He didn't rush me.
Which somehow made it worse.
"You let him see," Cassian said. "All of it."
"I'm tired of pretending I don't know people are watching."
He stepped closer. "You know they'll talk."
"I know."
"And you still did it."
"Yes."
His hands slid to my hips. Firm. Warm. Anchoring. He waited. Always waited, right at the edge.
I rested my forehead against his chest, breathing him in. "Don't make this about winning."
"I'm not," he said softly. "I'm making it about staying."
I looked up.
That was new.
The kiss this time was slower. Deeper. Less teasing. His hands moved with intent now, one sliding up my back, fingers pressing me closer until the world narrowed to heat and breath and contact.
I kissed him like I meant it.
When we finally broke apart, my pulse was everywhere.
"This changes things," I said.
"Yes," he agreed. "That's the point."
Later, lying beside him again, limbs tangled, the glow of the night still buzzing through me, my phone vibrated.
Jude:
You made your position clear tonight.
I stared at the screen.
Me:
I didn't say I was done.
The reply came slower.
Jude:
That's what scares me.
I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling, Cassian's arm heavy around my waist, his thumb tracing idle circles like he had all the time in the world.
The town would talk tomorrow.
Lines would be drawn.
And I had officially stepped past the point where this could be undone quietly.
But instead of fear, what settled in my chest was something sharper.
Excitement.
Because now?
Now everyone knew.
And I wasn't done yet.