Maya stepped out of Crumbs & Co., the little bakery tucked between the florist and an indie bookstore she always meant to visit. Her hands were wrapped around a paper bag, the heat from the fresh cookies seeped through and fogged her fingers in the morning chill.
The sky was powder blue, not a single cloud in sight, and Bellwood's streets were just beginning to stir with the start of the day rush.
She took a breath already feeling the weight of her literature readings pressing in on her brain as she gave herself this moment. Just this. Cookies in hand, soft sunlight on her face, and a warm breeze that tugged at the ends of her curls.
Then her phone dinged.
She glanced down instinctively, her hand slipping into her coat pocket. Maybe it was Sienna reminding her not to bring cookies unless she was prepared to share. Maybe it was...
The honk came out of nowhere. It split the air like a whip crack. Maya looked up too late.
The car was already barreling forward and fast, too fast and her feet had crossed halfway into the street.
Time warped. The sound dulled as her heart slammed one, twice, and then...
Arms. They were strong, fast and they came from nowhere.
A blur of motion slammed into her side, propelling her back into the sidewalk as a rush of wind swept where the car had just passed. She landed hard, on something solid and warm and definitely not pavement and onto a chest.
More specifically, Damian's chest.
"Oh my God," she gasped, blinking up at him as adrenaline pumped sharp and hot through her limbs. "Oh my God."
"Yeah," Damian breathed, his voice slightly winded, eyes widened. "That...that was close."
Pedestrians had frozen mid-step. A woman with a yoga mat clutched her heart. The driver of the car had stopped, stepping out with a pale face.
"You okay?" the man called, clearly rattled. "I swear I didn't see her until-"
"We're okay," Damian said, still flat on his back, his arms slightly cradled around Maya. "She's okay."
Maya scrambled off him, her cheeks flaming. Her cookie bag had flown several feet away, miraculously uncrushed.
"I'm so sorry," she blurted, turning to Damian. "I didn't see-God, I wasn't paying attention, I was checking my phone like an idiot."
"Hey, hey," he said, pushing himself up on his elbows. His voice was calm, but his cheeks were flushed pink, and his chest still heaved with shallow breaths. "You're not an idiot. You were just distracted."
"I almost died distracted."
He gave a crooked smile. "Lucky I've been working on my reflexes."
Maya groaned and pressed her hand to her forehead, pacing in a tight circle as the onlookers began to disperse. The driver, still shaken, apologized again and then climbed back into his car.
"You, God, you really threw yourself at me."
Damian chuckled, standing and brushing gravel off his jeans. "Don't make it weird, Maya."
She looked at him then, fully, her heart still tripping from the shock. His hair was tousled and he had the tiniest scrape on his wrist. But he was smiling like none of it had scared him half as much as it scared her.
"Thank you," she said, her voice softer now. "Really you didn't have to-"
"Of course I did." He shrugged like it was nothing. "What was I gonna do, let you become roadkill over a text message?"
Maya blinked at him and then she surprisingly laughed. A short bust of sound that came from deep in her belly, fueled by leftover adrenaline and absolute disbelief.
"I had cookies."
He grinned. "So you were willing to die for cookies. I respect that."
"I was not." She broke off, caught between hysterical amusement and residual panic. "You're the worst."
"I saved your life. That gets me a cookie."
She rolled her eyes but reached down to retrieve the bag from the sidewalk, miraculously intact. She pulled out a warm, gooey chocolate chip and offered it to him. Their fingers brushed as he took it. He smiled, but this time, it was a little shy. A little breathless.
"I'm buying you coffee," she said, unable to stop herself. "To say thank you. You don't get to argue."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
They started walking back towards campus, the silence between them filled with something new, a bond forged in chaos, sweet and strange and slightly charged.
---
Logan lounged like a sin in designer denim and practiced nonchalance at the rooftop that was bathed in a golden spill of afternoon sunlight.
He was flipping lazily through the well-worn pages of The Picture of Dorian Gray when the door creaked open. He didn't look up right away because Logan was many things, aware, stubborn but he wasn't obvious. Not when it came to her.
Then her voice, light and breathless, cut through the rooftop air like warm honey. "Sorry I'm late."
He lifted his eyes with a cool and deliberate stance.
And just like that, the casual ease evaporated.
Wind tugged gently at the edges of her coat, a paper coffee cup in one hand and her bag slung low on the opposite shoulder. Her curls were a little more tousled than usual, lips slightly parted as if she had to run to get there.
Maya was late, she was never late.
Logan straightened in his chair, shutting the book with a faint thump.
"You?" he said smoothly, arching one maddening brow. "Late? My world is unraveling."
She dropped into the chair across from him, cheeks still faintly flushed. "Yeah, well almost dying does that to a girl."
His posture stiffened. "Excuse me?"
Maya blew out a breath, shaking her head like it was no big deal. "Some idiot almost hit me with their car today morning while I was crossing the street. But it's fine. Damian pulled me back in time. Nothing happened."
Logan's fingers went still where they had been drumming against the table. "Damian?"
"Yeah." She sipped from her coffee. "He was volunteering at the same charity event I was in with Sienna over the weekend too. Total confidence. Saw me about to be flattened and did the whole hero dive. It was very dramatic. Very cinematic," she added, trying for humor.
But Logan wasn't smiling.
His face had gone still, expression unreadable except for the tick in his jaw and the way his fingers curled around the edge of the table like he wanted to crush it.
"You should've texted me."
Maya blinked. "Why?"
"Because you almost got hit by a car, Maya."
She scoffed lightly, brushing a curl from her cheek. "I'm fine. Nothing happened. No bruises, no blood. Damian took the fall."
"Of course he did," Logan muttered as his eyes darkened.
She frowned catching the undercurrent. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Logan leaned back slowly, his gaze sweeping over her in that way of his assessing and protective look in a way that always felt too intimate to be casual.
"You're shaking."
"I am not," she glanced down. Damn it, her hand gripped the cup as she trembled just slightly. It was barely noticeable, but of course he saw.
"Maya," Logan said quietly, all the usual sarcasm stripped from his tone. "Maybe we should skip tutoring for today."
Her eyes snapped up to his.
"Don't flatter yourself," she said, too fast and too defensive. "I'm not shaken because you care."
"I do care."
Maya looked at him then she saw the faint worry crinkling the corners of his usually lazy eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders and the way he wasn't playing anymore. Not with that glint of fury and jealousy. And maybe fear too.
"Logan," she said slowly, trying to steer them back to solid ground, "I'm fine. I just had a morning. And Damian being there was-look, it doesn't mean anything."
"Did you thank him?" Logan asked with sharp eyes.
"Of course I did."
He nodded once, his gaze cutting away. "Did you kiss his cheek, too? Give him a commemorative cookie?"
Maya blinked, a laugh escaping her before she could stop it. "Are you jealous?"
"I'm pissed someone else was there when you needed help," he said, without missing a beat. "That's not the same."
But it was.
And they both knew it.
The wind picked up again, tousling the edges of her curls, ruffling the pages of the closed book between them. For a long moment, she didn't speak, neither did he.
Then Maya reached forward, her fingers brushing the cover of the book absentmindedly.
"You're annoying," she said softly, almost as if she was fond.
"And you're a menace," Logan replied, his voice just as low, but laced with something warm and unfamiliar.
They didn't speak of the car again. Or Damian. Or the way Logan's knuckles were white from holding back emotion.
Instead, Maya opened her notes and Logan leaned in and the session began.