The sharp trill of her phone jolted Stephanie awake.
Groggy, head pounding, she fumbled around the side of the bed until she located it and answered with a raspy voice.
"Hello?"
"Stephanie! Where the hell are you?" Anita's voice was panicked and breathless.
"You just vanished! I thought—God, I don't even know what I thought!"
Before Stephanie could answer, Leo's voice broke in from the background.
"Steph, you good? Did that guy hurt you? Say the word and I'll find him."
Stephanie rubbed her temples, taking a slow breath. "I'm okay… I'm safe. I swear."
There was a beat of silence. "Where are you?" Leo asked.
She glanced around, trying to piece together the unfamiliar room—neutral tones, large windows, expensive decor. Then she noticed the shirt she was wearing. Not hers. Definitely his.
"I'm at… someone's place. But I'm safe. I'll be home soon, I promise."
Anita sighed in relief. "You better. I was ready to call the cops."
Stephanie offered a tired smile. "Thanks for worrying. I'll see you guys soon."
Once the call ended, she slowly sat up, pushing the plush duvet away. Nathan's shirt hung loosely on her, the crisp fabric smelling faintly of cedar and something clean and expensive. Her cheeks burned as she recalled fragments of the night—drinks, the guy who grabbed her, and then… Nathan. His arms. His voice. His fury. And then the blur of her tears and pleading.
She carefully tiptoed toward the door, pausing when she heard soft sounds from the kitchen. Her heart stuttered.
When she entered, Nathan was standing at the counter, dressed in a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, sleeves pushed up, hands working the coffee machine like he did it every day. His hair was slightly messy, the stubble on his jaw more defined in the morning light.
He looked up as she entered. "Morning," he said simply.
"Morning," she echoed, hugging herself.
Without saying a word, he walked over and handed her a steaming mug. "Drink. It'll help with the hangover."
She took it, brushing his fingers accidentally, and murmured, "Thank you."
They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them tangible. She stared into her coffee, then back up at him.
"You didn't… touch me last night."
"No. I didn't," he confirmed, eyes steady.
A strange relief washed over her… but alongside it, a tiny pang of disappointment.
She placed the mug down and crossed her arms. "Why?"
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "You were drunk. Vulnerable. Not in the right state to decide what you really wanted."
Stephanie looked down, then back at him with a tight expression. "But I did want something, Nathan. I wanted you."
He remained quiet.
She stepped forward, eyes flashing. "You kissed me once… and then you ignored me like it never happened. You act cold, like you feel nothing, but you keep looking at me like you do. And last night, you saw me—completely out of control—and you still chose to do the right thing. That's not what cold-hearted men do."
He opened his mouth, but she cut in, voice trembling. "Do you not find me attractive, is that it?"
"Stephanie," he said softly, but the hurt had already laced her next words.
"I don't get it. You confuse me. You get close and then pull away like I'm fire and you're scared to burn. And maybe I am fire, but I've been burning alone for so long—protecting myself from my mother, my sister, the world—that I don't know how to be near someone who won't hurt me."
A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I liked the kiss, Nathan. I liked it because it made me feel seen… wanted. And now I don't even know where we stand."
Something shifted in his eyes—guilt, regret… longing.
He reached out, his hand gently brushing away the tear. "You're not the only one who's scared," he whispered. "But I see you, Stephanie. And I want you more than you know."
She took a step closer, testing the air between them, the silence, the emotion. Then she leaned forward, slowly, hesitantly, lips parted.
Nathan didn't move.
Not at first.
Then, finally, with a groan deep in his chest, he met her halfway and kissed her back—no longer held back by fear or doubt.
The kiss was soft at first, testing, unsure.
Then it deepened—hungry, aching, the kind of kiss that had been simmering for too long. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and hers tangled in the front of his shirt. She felt the heat surge through her chest, spreading fast.
For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. There was only this. Only them.