I didn't plan to stay.
That was the truth I kept repeating to myself.
I was supposed to leave after a few minutes.
Say what I came to say.
Keep my distance.
But somehow…
I was still there.
Still standing in front of him.
Still caught in that space where everything felt heavier than it should.
"You're quiet," he said.
His voice was calm, but there was something underneath it.
Something I couldn't quite place.
"I'm thinking," I replied.
His lips curved slightly.
"That's dangerous."
I rolled my eyes lightly.
"Not everything has to mean something."
His gaze didn't move.
"With you, it usually does."
That made my chest tighten slightly.
Because maybe he was right.
Because nothing about this felt casual anymore.
Not the way he looked at me.
Not the way I reacted to him.
Not the way my body refused to stay calm whenever he was close.
"You should stop looking at me like that," I said quietly.
"Like what?"
"Like you already know what I'm thinking."
He stepped closer.
Not fast.
Not aggressive.
Just enough to make my breath hitch.
"Maybe I do," he said softly.
My heart skipped.
"You don't."
"Then tell me I'm wrong."
I opened my mouth to respond—
But nothing came out.
Because I couldn't.
Because the truth was…
I didn't even fully understand what I was feeling.
All I knew was that it was intense.
And it was pulling me in deeper than I wanted to admit.
"You see?" he murmured.
I swallowed slowly.
"This doesn't mean anything."
Even as I said it…
It sounded like a lie.
His eyes darkened slightly.
"You don't believe that."
"I do."
But my voice wasn't convincing.
Not even to me.
He took another step closer.
And this time…
I didn't step back.
That was the moment I realized—
I wasn't trying to leave anymore.
I was trying to stay.
And that scared me more than anything else.
"You're not walking away," he said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
It was a statement.
And the worst part?
He was right.
"I should," I whispered.
"But you won't."
Silence.
Heavy.
Real.
Because we both knew what was happening.
And neither of us was stopping it.
His hand lifted slightly—
Pausing just inches from my arm.
Like he was giving me a chance.
A chance to move.
A chance to break whatever this was.
But I didn't.
I stayed still.
And that was all the permission he needed.
His fingers brushed against my skin.
Soft.
Barely there.
But it sent a sharp wave through me instantly.
My breath caught.
And I hated how easily he affected me.
"You feel that?" he asked quietly.
I nodded before I could stop myself.
"Yes."
His hand lingered.
Not moving.
Just… there.
Like he was testing how far this would go.
And the truth was—
I didn't know either.
All I knew was that I wasn't pulling away.
And that meant something.
Something I wasn't ready to define.
"You should stop me," he said.
But his voice didn't sound like he wanted me to.
I looked up at him, my heart pounding.
"Do you want me to?"
A pause.
Then—
"No."
That was it.
That one word broke whatever control I thought I had left.
Because it wasn't just about him anymore.
It was about me too.
About what I was allowing.
About what I was choosing.
And for the first time…
I stopped pretending I didn't want this.
My hand lifted slowly, resting against his chest.
I felt his heartbeat.
Fast.
Unsteady.
Just like mine.
And that changed something.
Because it meant I wasn't the only one affected.
It meant this wasn't one-sided.
"You're not as in control as you think," I said softly.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Neither are you."
And he was right.
We were both losing control.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
And neither of us was trying to stop it anymore.
Because some things…
You don't walk away from.
Even when you know you should.