A Day Without Ice
Lucien decided Serena needed a picnic the same way storms decided the sky needed rain.
Without permission.
"Pack a bag," he said, leaning against her bedroom door that Saturday morning.
Serena, still half-asleep, blinked at him. "Why?"
"Because you've spent the week looking like you're one bad rumor away from freezing the world."
She sat up. "I'm not going anywhere."
He smiled—bright, determined, dangerous. "Elise."
She groaned and dropped back onto the pillow. "You're abusing that name."
"I'm using it responsibly."
An hour later, she was in the passenger seat of his car, arms crossed, staring out the window.
"This is kidnapping," she muttered.
Lucien handed her a warm cup of coffee. "Wrong. This is a date you didn't know you needed."
She accepted the cup anyway.
They drove out of the city, past glass buildings and noise, until the road softened into trees and open fields. Lucien parked near a quiet hill overlooking a small lake, sunlight dancing on the water.
Serena stepped out slowly.
It was… peaceful.
He spread a blanket beneath a wide oak tree, movements easy and practiced. From the basket, he pulled out food—sandwiches, fruit, pastries from the bakery near campus she liked but never mentioned aloud.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
"You planned this," she said.
Lucien sat down beside her. "I plan everything that involves you."
She scoffed, but the edge was gone.
They ate in comfortable silence at first. The breeze tugged gently at Serena's hair, carrying the scent of grass and water.
Lucien lay back, hands behind his head. "You used to love picnics."
She froze.
"When we were kids," he added quickly. "You said food tasted better outside."
Her fingers tightened around her cup.
"I remember," she said quietly. "I just… stopped going."
He turned his head toward her. "Why?"
She hesitated.
Then—surprisingly—even to herself—she answered.
"Because it felt like waiting."
Lucien sat up immediately.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly. "Not today. Not ever again."
Serena looked at him. Really looked.
No teasing. No grin. Just honesty.
Something inside her loosened.
She leaned back on her hands, letting the sun warm her skin. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel like she had to be alert. Or guarded. Or cold.
Lucien nudged her foot with his. "There. I see it."
"See what?"
"My Elise," he said softly.
She didn't correct him.
They talked—about nothing important and everything that was. About Evie's ridiculous theories about love. About Damien's obsession with basketball. About Serena's childhood dream of acting on stage, heart pounding under bright lights.
Lucien listened like it mattered.
When she laughed—soft, surprised at herself—he froze.
"There it is," he whispered.
She flushed. "Don't look at me like that."
"Can't help it," he said. "I thought I lost that laugh forever."
She stood suddenly, embarrassed. "I'm going to walk."
Lucien followed her to the edge of the lake. She slipped off her sneakers, toes brushing the cool water.
"This feels illegal," she said.
"Dropping your guard?" he teased. "Yeah. Terrifying."
She glanced at him. "You make it hard to keep my walls up."
"Good," he replied. "They were hurting you."
She turned fully to him then.
"You left," she said softly. "And I got sick. And everyone told me I'd forget you. So I decided I would."
Lucien stepped closer, voice low. "And did you?"
She shook her head.
He lifted his hand, brushing a strand of hair from her face—slow, careful, like she might disappear.
"Stay," he said. "Just for today."
She exhaled.
"Okay."
He smiled—not triumphant. Relieved.
They returned to the blanket as the sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long and gentle. Serena rested her head against his shoulder without thinking.
Lucien stilled.
Then wrapped an arm around her.
For once, Serena Blake didn't feel like the Ice Queen.
She felt like a girl who'd stopped waiting.
And Lucien Reed stayed.