DIYA'S POV
I didn't sleep.
How could I? My mind was a hurricane—every thought spinning around him. Would he laugh it off? Would he pretend nothing happened? Or—
Would he feel the same?
By morning, my room was spotless. Outfits discarded. Nails bitten raw. I'd rehearsed a hundred ways to act casual.
Then—the doorbell.
My heart exploded before my eyes even saw him.
There he stood. Black hoodie. Messy hair. That smile—the one that unraveled me stitch by stitch.
No words.
Just him, stepping forward, hands finding my waist, pulling me in—
The hug.
Not just any hug. This was claiming. Desperate. His arms locked around me like he'd drown if he let go. His heartbeat hammered against mine, wild and unsteady.
This was his answer.
I melted into him, fingers clutching the back of his hoodie, breathing him in—cologne and sleep deprivation and something so uniquely Maddy.
Then—
He pulled back just enough to look at me.
Our foreheads touched. His breath was warm, uneven.
"That," he whispered, voice rough, "is my answer."
And then—
He kissed me.
Not soft. Not hesitant.
This was fire.
His hands cradled my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks as his lips met mine—slow at first, testing, then deeper, hungrier. Like he'd been starving for this. For me.
I gasped. He took advantage, slanting his mouth over mine, swallowing the sound. Every nerve in my body ignited.
We broke apart, breathless.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown. "Been wanting to do that," he admitted, voice wrecked.
I grinned, dazed. "Took you long enough."
He laughed—a low, delicious sound—before kissing me again.
THE AFTERMATH
We collapsed onto the couch, limbs tangled, my head on his shoulder. His fingers traced idle patterns on my arm.
"This is weird," I mumbled.
"What?"
"Being this comfortable. This fast."
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my hair. "It's not weird. It's rare."
A beat of silence. Then—
"I should probably tell you something," Maddy said, voice serious.
I sat up. "What?"
He sighed. "I wasn't always like this. I used to be… a flirt."
I raised a brow. "Kind of?"
"Fine. Full-time. Part-time sweet-talker, full-time idiot." He winced. "I ghosted a girl after one date."
"Maddy!"
"I know." His fingers laced with mine, squeezing. "But that's the point. I was that guy—easy to like, hard to stay with. Until you."
His thumb brushed my knuckles. "You're different. This is different. I don't want to mess it up."
My chest ached.
I cupped his face. "Then be better," I whispered. "With me."
His eyes held mine—raw, vulnerable. "Deal."
And just like that, Maddy—the boy who never stayed—
Chose to stay.