The rain started sometime in the early hours of the morning.
I didn't know exactly when. Sleep had been shallow, restless, slipping through my fingers every time I thought I had finally drifted off. My mind wouldn't stay quiet long enough.
Because of him.
Every thought circled back to him—his voice, his eyes, the way he said my name like it meant something more. It wasn't just a memory anymore. It was a presence. Something that lingered even when he wasn't there.
I turned in bed, pulling the sheets tighter around me, but it didn't help. The restlessness stayed, sitting heavy in my chest, refusing to fade.
I exhaled slowly and stared at the ceiling.
"This has to stop," I whispered to myself.
But even as I said it, I knew it wasn't true.
Because I didn't want it to stop.
That was the problem.
A soft vibration broke through the silence, pulling me from my thoughts. My phone lit up on the bedside table, his name glowing on the screen like it had been waiting for me to look.
My heart skipped.
I hesitated, staring at it, my fingers hovering just above the screen. I could ignore it. I should ignore it.
But I didn't.
I picked it up.
"Where are you?"
That was all the message said.
Simple. Direct.
But there was something about it—something in the way he always spoke, like he already knew I would answer. Like there was no question about it.
I swallowed, my pulse quickening as I typed back.
"At home."
The reply came faster than I expected.
"Stay there."
My breath caught slightly.
There it was again. That tone. That quiet authority that made something inside me tighten, react, respond before I could even think it through.
I sat up slowly, pushing the covers aside.
"No," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. "You're not doing this again."
I placed the phone face down, as if that would somehow stop everything.
But the feeling didn't go away.
It never did.
The air in the room felt heavier, thicker, like it was building toward something I couldn't control. My chest rose and fell a little faster, anticipation mixing with something dangerously close to excitement.
And then—
A knock.
I froze.
For a second, I thought maybe I imagined it. But then it came again, firmer this time, steady and unmistakable.
My heart started racing.
He was here.
Of course he was.
I stood up slowly, my feet moving before my mind could catch up. Every step toward the door felt heavier, like I was walking straight into something I wouldn't be able to walk away from.
When I reached it, I paused, my hand hovering over the handle.
This was it.
I could still stop.
Still turn around.
Still pretend none of this was happening.
But instead…
I opened the door.
And there he was.
Standing right in front of me, rain dripping from his hair, his shirt slightly damp, clinging just enough to hint at the shape beneath. His eyes found mine instantly, dark and focused, like I was the only thing he saw.
"You took your time," he said quietly.
My breath hitched.
"You told me to stay," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
"And you listened."
Something in the way he said it made my stomach tighten.
I stepped aside without thinking, and he walked in like he belonged there. Like this space—my space—was already his.
"You're soaked," I said, closing the door behind him, trying to ignore the way my heart wouldn't slow down.
"I noticed," he replied, his tone calm, almost amused.
He turned to face me fully then, and the room suddenly felt smaller. The distance between us felt too short, too charged.
I crossed my arms slightly, trying to ground myself. "You shouldn't be here."
"Then why did you open the door?"
The question hit harder than it should have.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't have one.
He took a step closer.
Just one.
But it was enough to shift everything.
"Kayla," he said softly, my name rolling off his tongue in a way that made my chest tighten. "I've wanted this… wanted you… for too long."
My breath caught, my body reacting before my mind could catch up.
"This isn't right," I said quickly, though the words felt weak even to me.
"Then why are you still standing here?" he asked, his voice dropping slightly.
I couldn't answer that either.
Because the truth was…
I didn't want to move.
He reached out slowly, giving me enough time to pull away if I wanted to.
But I didn't.
His fingers brushed lightly against my wrist, and the effect was immediate. A sharp breath escaped me as warmth spread through my body, my pulse jumping beneath his touch.
"Don't fight it," he murmured, his gaze locked onto mine. "You want this. You know you do."
My heart pounded hard against my chest, my thoughts spinning.
"I don't know what I want," I admitted quietly.
He stepped closer again, closing the space between us completely now.
"Yes, you do."
The certainty in his voice made something inside me tremble.
I tried to step back, but there was nowhere left to go. The wall was behind me, solid and unyielding, and suddenly I was trapped—not by force, but by something far more dangerous.
Him.
"You keep pretending you're in control," he said softly. "But you're not."
My breath came faster now, uneven, betraying everything I was trying to hide.
"And you are?" I challenged, though my voice lacked strength.
His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile. "No," he said quietly. "I just stopped pretending."
That hit me harder than anything else.
Because I knew exactly what he meant.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, trying to steady myself, but it was useless. Everything felt too intense, too real.
When I opened them again, he was still there, still watching me like he could see straight through every wall I had built.
And for the first time…
I stopped trying to hide.
The tension between us shifted, deepened, turning into something undeniable.
Every breath, every glance, every second stretched into something heavier, something impossible to ignore.
I felt it fully now.
The pull.
The need.
The loss of control.
And instead of running from it…
I stayed.
Because the truth was—
I was already too far gone.