Felicity's POV.
The courtyard was quieter now. Most of the students had gone inside, leaving only the soft hum of music and the occasional clink of glasses behind closed doors. The fairy lights above glowed gently like little shy stars. I walked slowly, my hand brushing against Christopher's as we moved toward the garden path. Alex stayed a few steps behind, watching me. Every move I made seemed to catch his attention. Every laugh, every tilt of my head, felt like a memory replaying and looked like it stayed in his mind. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Christopher noticed the tension but said nothing. His grip on my hand was firm and protective, but not controlling. He trusted me. In his own quiet way, he seemed to understand that the moment was a little uncomfortable.
I paused at the edge of the garden and looked at the stars above. I breathed slowly. The night was calm, but inside me, something felt restless. I wanted to enjoy this moment, to feel the warmth of Christopher's hand on mine, and to let myself breathe. Yet something still pulled at my heart. A small ache that I couldn't explain. The music from the party still played faintly in my ears as Christopher and I stepped into the cool Oxford night. My heels hurt. My cheeks ached from hours of fake smiling. My brain felt completely fried, full of confusion and emotional exhaustion. The party was over, but my thoughts were still spinning. My hand rested lightly on his arm, and I could feel his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of my dress.
Noah had vanished without a trace. Beside me, Chris walked quietly. One hand was in his pocket, and the other held my heels because halfway to my dorm I had given up and handed them to him. He looked unfairly good. His outer sub fusc hung over one shoulder. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and his tie was gone. His curls were messy in a distracting way, like he had run his hands through them several times, probably because of me. Everything about tonight felt heavier than it should.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly. His voice was low, almost gentle and careful, like he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.
"You," I admitted before I could stop myself.
His eyebrows lifted, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "What about me?"
I hesitated, biting my lip. "You're so handsome. I mean… just how complicated tonight got."
His gaze softened, but there was something unreadable there. "I heard you loud and clear. But no problem. So you mean Alex and Noah showing up. Yeah."
Penelope. Mia. Whatever the heck just happened between Alex and me at the bar. The look in his eyes was half anger and half heartbreak. But right now none of that mattered. The person walking beside me was the one I had chosen. He was holding my shoes and making sure I got home safely without being asked.
"You realise you're walking me home like some Victorian gentleman," I teased.
He gave me a sideways look. "Victorian gentlemen weren't thinking about doing what I'm thinking about right now."
I inhaled sharply. "And what exactly are you thinking?"
"Don't tempt me, Felicity." His voice was very low and deep.
We turned the corner, the moonlight catching the sharp line of his jaw in a way that made my knees regret being attached to the rest of my body. My dorm building came into view, and so did Penelope. She was leaning against the wall like she had been waiting there all night, ready to audition for the role of Nosy Best Friend Who Appears at the Worst Possible Moment.
"Finally," she said, studying us. "I was about to send out a search party."
Christopher's jaw tightened. "We were just talking."
Penelope smirked at me like she knew exactly how much "talking" we had been doing with our eyes. "Mhm. Well, I'll just let you get back to that." She winked and walked away, whisper-singing, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G."
I buried my face in my hands. "I hate her."
"You mean you love her. No, you don't hate her," Christopher said with a chuckle, stepping closer. "She loves you too. I know you do."
He smiled. "You probably just wish she would text first instead of showing up at the worst moment."
Just as we reached my door, my phone buzzed.
I groaned. "If that's her again…"
It wasn't. It was Mia.
>Where are you? Is Christopher with you???
Then another message came. >Don't do anything stupid.
I pushed my phone back into my clutch without replying. "Nope. I'm not dealing with that right now."
Christopher glanced at my expression. "Mia?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Block her."
"You're evil."
"Efficient," he corrected, sliding his hand down my back until it rested on my hip.
By the time we reached my dorm door, my pulse was pounding like a drum in my ears. I fumbled with my keys, very aware of how close he stood. He was so close that I could feel his breath brush my temple.
"Thanks," I murmured, holding my keys. "For the shoes. And… for everything tonight."
He stepped closer. Very close. My breath caught as his fingers lightly touched mine while he gently took the key from my hand.
"I'll do it," he said quietly.
He slid the key into the lock and unlocked the door slowly and deliberately, like he wasn't just opening the door but also testing the space between us. I stepped inside. He followed. I didn't stop him. The air changed the moment the door shut behind us. I should have said goodnight, but I didn't.
"Felicity," he murmured. His tone sounded like both a warning and a promise.
I looked up at him, and my last clear thought was yes. Then there was a loud knock on the door. We both jumped, frightened.
A male voice yelled, "Felicity, you left your…oh. Uh. Hi."
It was Tom from the debate club, holding a library book. His eyes flicked between us.
"Really, Tom?" I shot back, my eyebrows arching.
"Sorry! Just… yeah, sorry." He scurried off, mumbling about due dates, and quickly disappeared down the hall.
Christopher's eyes locked on me. "If one more person interrupts us…"
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Then what?"
He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. "Then I'm locking the door."
My back rested against the door, and his eyes were still on me. Suddenly the silence between us felt heavier than the music from the party ever had.
His eyes dropped to my lips. "I hated seeing him look at you," Chris said, his voice low, like it was hard for him to admit it.
"Alex?" I asked, even though I already knew.
He nodded. His jaw tightened. "Yeah. It was weird. The way he was looking at you, it felt wrong."
"How so?" I asked, tilting my head. "Weird how?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Weird like… he was looking at something that wasn't his to look at. Like he thought he had a right. It made me want to punch him."
"But you didn't."
"Only because you were watching," he said, stepping a little closer.
I arched an eyebrow. "Jealous?"
"Madly," he said without hesitation and without shame, like it was the most natural thing in the world to want to claim me.
He was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him. My back pressed against the door. His eyes dropped to my lips again.
"Say stop," he whispered.
I didn't. I just breathed, "Then maybe you shouldn't stop."
He kissed me, and the world tilted. The kiss wasn't soft or gentle. It was hungry, messy, and desperate. Every bit of frustration, tension, and unsaid words between us crashed in like a tidal wave. His hands roamed across my waist, my back, my face, like he couldn't touch me fast enough. My fingers tangled in his shirt as I pulled him closer. Clothes tugged. We bumped into walls, laughing breathlessly between kisses like drunk rom-com teenagers.
"I can't believe you wore this robe," he groaned against my skin.
"The Sub Fusc?" I teased.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it's evil."
I laughed. " Evil really? Do you like evil?"
"I like you."
My knees went weak, nearly giving out. He lifted me easily, almost effortlessly, and I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me toward the bed like it was a royal command.
"I'm not breakable, Chris."
"I know," he said with a grin. "But I plan to take my time ruining you."
He kissed me again, slower this time, deeper. His lips moved from my neck and slowly down my stomach, leaving warm trails that made my breath catch. Every touch sent a small rush through me, and for a moment I forgot how to think. Then my thoughts finally caught up with my heart.
'Oh my gosh… he's good. Really good. But I can't. Not now. No way.'
My fingers tightened slightly on his shirt as I tried to steady my breathing.
"Chris, wait," I said softly, my fingers slipping into his hair as he kissed my stomach, my voice low and breathless. I let out a shaky breath. "Please… stop. Just stop."
He stopped immediately, as if my voice alone had flipped a switch. His gaze locked on mine, care and concern filling his eyes, with a trace of something deeper beneath it. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" His voice was low, almost fragile.
I swallowed hard and shook my head, my chest tightening and my heart hammering in my ears. "I've never… kissed anyone but you," I admitted quietly, my voice trembling. "I've never been with anyone, and I've never had sex with anyone. I'm a virgin, and I'm not planning to have sex. Not yet."
The words spilt out faster than I could stop them. My cheeks burned, my hands shook, and I reached up to touch him, wanting him close to me. "I just… wanted you to know. I want to wait. Until I'm married."
He stayed still, letting the words sink in. His gaze was soft and intense, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the space between us. My breath hitched as his fingers brushed mine. I could feel everything at once. Every beat of my heart, every rush of heat, and every unspoken desire crashed through me.
Then he moved slowly, sitting up and taking my face gently in his hands. His thumbs brushed along my cheekbones as if I were something precious.
"You mean…" His voice cracked slightly, and he leaned in a little closer. "You've saved all of that… for me?"
I nodded, my eyes stinging with a mix of hope, fear, and something I couldn't name. My voice wavered, almost breaking. "I don't know if you're the one I choose… or if it's someone else. But I know I want to wait. I want to wait for someone who truly matters. Someone I can give all of me to, completely."
He stayed still, his gaze locked on mine, soft and intense, and for a moment, the world shrank until it was just us. My breath hitched as I realised how much I trusted him, how much I wanted him, and how much I feared losing the moment. Every beat of my heart felt louder than the last, every shiver in my body reminding me that this was more than just words.
A slow, breathtaking smile spread across his face. "Sweetheart," he whispered, his voice trembling with something raw and real. "It's not up for debate because you're the only one I want. You're the one I choose. That is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me."
He leaned in and kissed my forehead, his breath warm on my skin. "I will never rush you. If you want to wait until we're married… then I'll wait. All of me is yours, and I'll wait as long as it takes."
His eyes held mine, soft and endless, full of care, love, and a promise that made my chest ache. Every word, every touch, every look told me that he loved me with his whole heart. I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his forehead against mine sink deep into my chest. Every breath felt like a promise, every heartbeat like a drum of something we could not name but both understood. For a few seconds, the world outside my dorm did not exist. There was only him, only us, only this fragile, perfect moment.
Then the soft creak of the floor beneath his shoes reminded me that reality still lingered. I pulled back slightly, blinking, my cheeks warm. "Chris… I…"
He smiled, gentle and patient, brushing a stray curl from my face. "Shh. You don't have to say anything. Just being here, with you, is enough."
My lips curved into a small, shaky smile. His words wrapped around me like a shield, and for the first time all night, I felt entirely safe and entirely known. Outside, the night waited for us. But inside, in that quiet dorm room, everything felt like it had slowed down just for us.
I laughed softly, still a little nervous. "You say that like marriage is guaranteed."
"Oh, it is." His grin softened, full of warmth and mischief all at once. "Because I'm marrying the heck out of you."
I let out a startled laugh, pulling back just enough to look at him. "You did not just say that."
He smiled and teased, like he knew exactly what he was doing. "Hmmm. I did." Then he pulled me close again. This time it felt different. Not intense, not overwhelming, no pressure. Just us. Just a warm, safe, steady embrace, like I could stay there for as long as I wanted.
I was still trying to make sense of everything when his voice dropped, softer this time. "Can I tell you something? I am also a virgin," he murmured.
I blinked, completely caught off guard. "Wait… what? So you mean you have not done anything?"
He gave a small shrug, almost shy. "Yeah."
"Wow! That's a lot."
For a moment, I just stared at him, my heart doing something quiet and unfamiliar. Somehow, it made everything feel a little easier. We curled up together on the bed, tangled in each other's arms. For the first time in my life, I felt the kind of love that didn't need rushing, a love that felt calm, steady, and entirely ours.
>>>>>>>>>>
Christopher's POV.
Step one: Show up for her.
Done.
Step two: Try not to lose my mind.
Felicity Paddington was going to be the death of me. Not literally. The moment she walked into that party in a crisp white blouse tucked into a black skirt, a ribbon tied at her collar, and her academic gown falling over her shoulders, looking like she had no idea she was setting the whole room on fire, nearly stopped my heart because she was so beautiful. I knew it the second she flashed me that sarcastic smile, the one that said she was ignoring me on purpose, and danced with every guy except me. I hated it. Not the smile. Not the way she moved. Not even the way every guy in that room looked at her like she was something rare. I hated that I wasn't the one she chose to look at.
Every laugh she gave someone else felt wrong. Every time another guy's hand got a little too close to her waist, something tight twisted in my chest. I told myself to relax. Told myself it didn't matter. But it did. The truth was simple. I wanted her. Not just for a dance. Not just for a moment. I wanted all of her. Watching her give even a second of that attention to someone else made something in me snap. I almost went over there. More than once. Almost pulled her away. I almost said something I couldn't take back. But I didn't. The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn't watching said everything. She knew. She just liked making me work for it. She was testing me. Somehow, that made me want her even more.
The dorm door clicked shut behind us, closing out the rest of the world. It was just us. Her perfume lingered in the air, sweet and distracting, and she was looking at me like she had been holding her breath since the party.
"You know," I said, stepping forward until her back met the wall, "I don't think we ever finished that conversation from earlier."
Her lips curved into that teasing smile. "What conversation?"
"The one where I tell you how hard it is to be near you without…"
Her hand slid up to my lip, stopping me mid-sentence. Her eyes locked on mine, dark and daring. "Then maybe," she whispered. "You shouldn't stop."
And just like that, interruptions be damned, the tension between us turned into heat. She wasn't just a girl I liked. She was the whole story I never saw coming, the one I didn't even know I was already part of. She tasted like strawberries, like stolen midnights and secrets whispered so close they stayed on your skin. She kissed like she had something to prove, and I wanted to be the one she proved it to.
But it wasn't just the heat I wanted. She kissed like she was daring me to keep up, like every brush of her lips and every touch was a challenge, a warning, and a quiet plea all at once. It was the way she pulled me in, like every touch meant something more. Like she was testing if I would run, and I was afraid I might actually stay. I wanted to give her everything, not just the fire that left us breathless in the dark, but the quiet, steady mornings after. She was tangled in her sheets, with her close to me while the world moved on outside, where everything could fall apart and she'd still be in my arms. I wanted her pressed against me in her bed, held close no matter what happened, because at that moment she belonged in my arms.
But it wasn't just the passion. I wanted more than the rush. I wanted the bad days, the slammed doors, the messy, unpretty truth of her, the complicated moments, the arguments we would regret, and the make-ups we would remember and replay in our heads for weeks. I wanted her storms and her sunlight, her chaos and her calm. I wanted the quiet moments too, the apologies, the mornings when the world felt heavy but we faced it together. I wanted the imperfect, complicated truth of loving her. I wanted the beautifully flawed parts of real love. I wanted all of it, every last bit of her until there was nothing left she hadn't given me.
But now, in this moment in her dorm room, she was curled up next to me, warm and soft, her hair carried a faint scent of Pantene shampoo and wildflowers, something soft that stayed with me. I was done for. I knew it in my soul. I didn't just know it in my head, I felt it in my bones, deep in my chest. Now she was here beside me on her bed, close enough that I could feel her warmth, soft like she belonged there, as she belonged with me. Her head rested close to mine, her breath steady, her fingers brushing mine without even thinking about it. My chest tightened again, but this time it was not jealousy. It was something deeper. Something quieter. Something that scared me more than anything that happened at that party. Because this was real. And I knew it. Felicity Paddington was not just part of my life. She was becoming everything. She was carved into it, like her name had been written there in permanent ink.
"You okay?" I whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder.
She nodded, curling closer like she had been made to fit against me. Her eyes were half closed, her breathing calm, but I could still feel the weight of everything unsaid between us. I wanted to tell her she didn't have to be careful with me, that I would wait no matter how long it took, that I would walk through every bit of drama and madness this year would throw at us just to end up right here with her. And I meant it.
"I'm not going anywhere," I told her softly.
She didn't answer with words. She didn't need to. Instead, she kissed me again, slow and certain. In that kiss, there was no rush, no fear, no jealousy, just trust. It felt like the moment two people who had weathered every storm finally let their guards down for someone who just might be worth it. Right then, I knew one thing for sure. Waiting for her would never feel like waiting. It would feel like building something that could actually last forever. Midnight and everything unsaid settled quietly around us. But somehow, it did not matter anymore. Because in the silence, we understood each other.