I needed to see her. Needed to breathe the same air. Needed to make sure she wasn’t lying to make me calm down.
She hesitated—just a second—and I felt something in my chest fracture.
Then she nodded.
“Okay. Jess told me she’d be out, so it’ll just be us. Is that… okay?”
Okay?
It was the best fucking news I’d ever heard in my life.
My smile was probably deranged. I didn’t care.
“Just to watch a movie,” she added quickly, like she needed to set the terms. “Jess said I could use her DVDs.”
“Movie?” I echoed.
“I love movies.”
I said it too fast. Too eager.
But she didn’t seem to mind.
She just let out a small breath, like she was relieved someone wanted something so… normal from her.
She didn’t know that I would sit with her in silence.
Or watch ten thousand movies.
Or kill everyone in this place if she asked.
She didn’t know she’d already become oxygen.
And as she led me toward her door—walking slow, one hand on the wall like she needed the support—I knew two things with absolute certainty:
She wasn’t okay.
I wasn’t letting her out of my sight until she was.
As we reached her door, she stopped.
Her hand hovered over the handle, trembling just a little. She turned to me, chewing her lip like she was bracing for something painful.
“Ash,” she said softly.
“I like you. I do.”
My chest lit up like someone had set off fireworks in it.
“I like you too,” I blurted, probably grinning like an idiot.
For the first time all day, she gave me arealsmile. Small, warm, careful—like she was offering me something fragile.
“I just…” She swallowed. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. I’m not good with touch, okay?”
She took a tiny, shaky breath, the kind someone tries to hide.
The kind that meant she fully expected me to pull away.
