VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER THREE One Step Closer (Part Two)
VOLUME I
ACT I
CHAPTER THREE
One Step Closer
(Part Two)
When we got home, he walked me to the porch.
He lingered.
“I’m glad you came,” he said. “I would’ve been nervous without you.”
“You didn’t seem nervous.”
He leaned a little closer. “That’s because you were there.”
He didn’t kiss me. Not yet.
But he looked like he wanted to.
And I didn’t dare ruin the moment by pushing.
Let him come. Let him lean. Let him fall.
Because he was falling.
And I knew the exact moment he hit the edge.
Monday came with rain.
Not the dramatic, movie-style kind. Just a slow, relentless drizzle that soaked the sidewalks and muted the city noise. I sat in my morning class barely absorbing anything, my mind replaying that last look he gave me at the porch.
He was going to kiss me.
I was sure of it.
And yet, he didn’t.
A choice.
Maybe he was scared. Maybe he didn’t want to cross a line. Or maybe—just maybe—he still hadn’t decided what I meant to him.
But I had made my decision a long time ago.
We texted at noon. Nothing romantic. Just:
“You made it home okay?”
And I replied:
“Yeah. You?”
A few hours later, he sent:
“Rain makes everything feel slower.”
I wanted to reply something poetic. Something about how the rain slows time so we can remember what matters. But I deleted the draft and just sent:
“Agreed.”
Because I couldn’t risk too much too soon.
Because I wanted him to want more.
Later that night, he called me. His voice sounded low and close, like he was lying in bed in the dark.
“Can I ask you something kinda weird?”
“Always.”
“Do you believe in... I don’t know. Destiny?”
My heart skipped.
I swallowed.
“Like fate?”
“Yeah. That people come into our lives for a reason. At the exact time they’re supposed to.”
There it was.
Another edge.
Another chance to jump.
And I did.
“Yeah,” I said. “I believe some people were never a coincidence.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Yeah. Me too.”
I lay in bed for hours after that call, phone clutched to my chest, heart aching in the most beautiful way.
It was working.
He was opening up.
He was beginning to see me as more than just his brother’s best friend. More than a familiar face at the dinner table. He was seeing me as something... inevitable.
And yet, guilt curled inside my stomach like smoke.
Because he didn’t know the truth.
Because the pieces he was falling for had been placed carefully, one after another, like stones across a river. And I had built that path, not fate.
Friday came, and with it, another invitation.
His brother was hosting a birthday dinner. Just close friends and family. A small celebration at their house.
“Hope you’re coming,” he texted me. “Wouldn’t be the same without you.”
My fingers trembled as I typed back,
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
When I arrived, I wore a soft green dress that hit just below my knees. His mom complimented me immediately, pulling me into a hug that smelled of roses and something freshly baked.
“Look at you,” she beamed. “You look lovely, sweetheart.”
He was in the kitchen when I found him, shirt sleeves rolled up, helping arrange appetizers on a platter like he was auditioning for the role of future husband.
He looked up, saw me, and his entire face changed.
There was something there now. Something undeniably warm.
“You made it,” he said, like he hadn’t been watching the door for the last ten minutes.
“Of course.”
We didn’t say more. We didn’t have to.
The night unfolded in a blur of laughter and music. I caught his younger brother glancing at us a few times. Curious. Suspicious maybe.
He had a right to be.
Eventually, someone put on a slow song. Couples drifted into the living room, dancing in loose embraces under the soft yellow lights.
His mom nudged him.
“Go dance.”
He chuckled.
“With who?”
“She’s right there,” she said, nodding toward me.
He looked over.
And then he walked toward me.
“Wanna dance?”
I nodded, heart pounding.
His hand settled gently at my waist. Mine rested on his shoulder.
We swayed, quiet, in the soft hush of the moment.
“You’re dangerous,” he said suddenly, his voice low.
I looked up at him. “Why?”
“Because... I keep forgetting I’m not supposed to feel this way.”
I couldn’t speak.
“I keep telling myself you’re my little brother’s best friend. That we’ve only been friends. That it’s just... familiarity.”
“And?”
“And I think I’m lying to myself.”
The world spun.
Not because we were dancing.
But because in that moment, nothing else mattered but his breath on my cheek.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes.
And finally, finally—
he kissed me.