Page 32 of Dare to Hold (Dare To Love #1)

Ivy

The knock on my door is gentle but solid, and I don’t think I’ve ever moved faster to answer it. When I pull it open, Gray is standing there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand—another messy, beautiful mix of pinks and whites—and that familiar grin softening his expression.

“Hey you,” he says, his voice low and warm.

I giggle, stepping aside to let him in. “Gray, I still have flowers from last time in a vase on the kitchen counter.”

He shrugs, stepping through the door and wrapping his arms around me in that full-hearted hug he does that makes the world fall quiet. His lips brush the top of my head as he murmurs, “I remember. But I told you—I’m your boyfriend now. It’s kind of my job to bring you flowers. Get used to it.”

I smile against his chest, my heart doing that little flip it always seems to do around him.

He smells like his typical mix of leather and vanilla. His hands slide gently over my back, not rushing, just there. I close my eyes, resting my head against his chest.

“I could stay here forever,” I murmur against his shoulder, the words slipping out before I can catch them .

Gray chuckles softly, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. “Not gonna lie, I wouldn’t mind that.”

I pull back just slightly, my hands still resting on his sides as I look up at him. His eyes search mine, a question there, but he just smiles. “So...how’d the meeting go?”

I shift back, walking toward the kitchen and tossing him a casual glance over my shoulder. “Well…they want me to work on the Christmas designs. But there is something else.”

Gray’s brows pull together as he follows me into the kitchen. “What do you mean?”

I turn to face him, leaning against the counter, trying, and failing, to hide the grin tugging at my lips. “They offered me a job.”

He stares at me, waiting for me to say more. When I don’t, he tilts his head. “Like...an actual job?”

I nod, biting my bottom lip. “Part-time for now, but yeah. It’s real. I’m officially on the team.”

The words are barely out of my mouth before he’s across the room, his arms around me, lifting me right off the floor. I squeal, clutching his shoulders as he spins me around, his laugh warm and unrestrained. “You did it!”

I can’t stop laughing, my head tipping back as he spins us one more time before setting me down. His hands are still on my waist, his smile still wide and genuine. “I knew they’d see it. I knew it.”

I shrug, but I’m beaming. “I wasn’t sure at first...but when they offered, it just felt...right.”

Gray’s eyes soften as he takes a step back, still smiling. “I’m so proud of you, Ivy.”

Then he pauses, like he’s remembering something, and reaches into his jacket pocket. “I have something for you. ”

He pulls out a small box with a little gold bow that’s slightly crumpled, and holds it out.

My heart flutters. “Gray, what…”

“Open it.”

I lift the lid and find a delicate gold bracelet inside. A tiny cross charm glints in the light, and as I turn it gently in my fingers, I notice the small engraving inside — 1 Corinthians 13:13.

I trace the numbers with my thumb, swallowing hard. “What verse is this?”

Gray’s smile softens, his voice low and full of meaning. “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

Tears fill my eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

“I wanted you to have a reminder,” he says quietly, taking the bracelet from my hand and fastening it around my wrist. “Of how much faith I have in you. How much hope I have in our future. And how much…love I have for you.”

His fingers brush my skin, lingering just long enough to make my heart skip.

“I love you Ivy,” he adds.

My breath catches, and the words tumble out, soft but certain. “I love you too, Gray. I think… I’ve been falling for you since that first dare.”

His grin softens into something deeper, something that makes my knees feel unsteady. He leans in, just enough for his forehead to brush mine, and for a heartbeat, we stay like that, wrapped in the weight of what we’ve just said.

Then I clear my throat, turning back to the stove, my heart still racing. “Well… we can officially celebrate with mediocre pasta and day-old breadsticks.”

Gray chuckles, leaning against the counter. “Sounds perfect to me.”

The words settle in my chest as I turn back to the stove, where the pot of pasta is still simmering. I grab the spoon and give it a quick stir.

I grin, sprinkling a bit of parmesan over the pot and turning off the burner. “You say that now. Just wait until you’re actually eating it.”

He reaches over, grabbing a piece of bread from the counter and taking a bite. “I’m not too worried.”

“Famous last words,” I tease, ladling the pasta onto two plates and setting them on the coffee table.

We sit cross-legged on my living room floor, plates balanced on the coffee table between us. He swears it's the best thing he’s ever eaten, which is either wildly flattering or proof that the man doesn’t cook.

Music plays low from my phone. The overhead lights are off.

Just the warm flicker of a single lamp in the corner, casting a soft glow over the room.

He reaches for another breadstick, and I take the opportunity to study him—the curve of his smile, the way his lashes frame his eyes when he looks down.

“Okay, seriously,” Gray says, pointing his fork at me. “What did you put in this?”

I laugh, twirling my fork through the last bit of spaghetti. “Um…garlic? Salt? A touch of desperation?”

He raises an eyebrow, chewing thoughtfully. “If desperation tastes like this, I’m concerned for your mental state.”

I snort, covering my mouth with my hand. “I guess I’m just that good.”

Gray’s eyes soften, his smile turning genuine. “You are.”

Heat creeps up my neck, and I glance down at my plate. “It’s just pasta. ”

“And I’m just a guy,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder. “Sometimes simple things are the best things.”

I pause, my fork halfway to my mouth as I let the words settle, nestling into the spaces between us.

He catches my eye, his smile turning a little sheepish. “That was deep, huh?”

I chuckle, taking a sip of my water. “Yeah. Very hallmark-movie of you.”

Gray leans back against the couch, stretching his legs out. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. “Name one thing that would surprise me.”

He tilts his head, considering. “I know how to juggle.”

I burst out laughing. “No you do not.”

Gray shrugs. “I do. Two years ago, one of the kids in the youth group begged me to learn. So, I did.”

I cross my arms, skeptical. “Prove it.”

He raises his hands like he’s surrendering. “I’m not juggling marinara-covered meatballs in your living room.”

I laugh again, the sound echoing off the walls of my tiny apartment. “Fine, I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“You will.” He grins, leaning back and stretching his arms out along the back of the couch, fingertips brushing my shoulder. “Okay, your turn. What’s something that would surprise me?”

I hesitate, biting my lip. “Hmm…I can play the ukulele.”

Gray’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you serious?”

I nod, laughing. “I bought it at a garage sale in college and taught myself how to play. I only know, like, five songs, but still.”

He’s grinning now, eyes bright with disbelief. “Okay, I need proof. Please tell me you still have it. ”

I look toward my bedroom door, then back at him. “I do…it’s probably a little out of tune.”

“I don’t care.” His grin widens. “Please? I’ve got to see this.”

I roll my eyes, but his excitement is contagious. I get up, disappearing into my room and digging through my closet until I find the faded blue case. When I come back out, Gray is sitting up straighter, his hands clasped like he’s about to witness a miracle.

“Here it is,” I say, plopping back down on the floor. I unzip the case and pull out the tiny instrument, brushing the strings with my fingers.

Gray’s smile stretches even wider. “This is amazing.”

“Don’t get too excited,” I warn, plucking a few strings and wincing at the tinny sound. “Like I said, I only know a few songs. And they’re...well, kinda ridiculous.”

“Now I’m even more excited,” he laughs, settling back. “Play me something ridiculous.”

I roll my eyes but settle the uke on my lap.

After a quick tune, I strum the first few chords of a silly, half-written song I made up back in college.

It’s ridiculous and embarrassing and full of nonsensical rhymes, but Gray is absolutely loving it, leaning back with his hands behind his head, laughing like he hasn’t laughed in years.

When I finally stop, he claps loudly, even whistles. “You have been holding out on me, Ivy.”

I groan, shoving the uke back in its case. “You weren’t supposed to like that.”

“Oh, but I did.” He reaches over, brushing his fingers along mine. “You surprise me.”

I pause, the weight of his touch sending sparks up my arm. “Good surprise?”

He nods, his smile softening. “The best kind. ”

My heart stumbles over itself, and I glance down at my plate, cheeks warming. “Well...now you know my secret talent.”

Gray chuckles. “I think I need to start digging for more.”

“Good luck with that,” I tease, nudging his shoulder.

Gray leans in just slightly, his voice going soft. “I think I’m up for the challenge.”

I laugh, the sound catching in my throat as he inches just a little bit closer, eyes locked on mine. For a moment, the air shifts—something heavier, deeper settling between us. I feel it, that electric hum that’s been threading through every moment we share lately.

He pulls back, but the feeling lingers, stretching out like a thin thread, unbreakable. I clear my throat, glancing back at my plate, but my heart is nowhere near calm.

We’ve been doing this more lately.

Spending time. Talking about real things. Laughing until it hurts.

And kissing.

A lot of kissing.

The closeness between us hums in the air like static. Every brush of his hand, every glance across the table, it’s like my body remembers how it felt to kiss him in the rain. How safe it felt. How electric. How seen.

And the longer we sit here tonight, the harder it is to pretend that I don’t want more of that. More of him.

I set my empty plate aside, and he does the same. When he leans back against the couch, I follow, scooting close until his arm wraps around my shoulder. I curl into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His fingers trail slowly down my arm.

I turn to face him, heart pounding. Our faces are inches apart .

Then less than inches.

I kiss him.

Soft. Sweet. Until it’s not.

He deepens it, one hand cradling my jaw, the other sliding to my waist. I melt into him, letting my fingers roam under the hem of his shirt. He’s warm. Solid. Familiar in a way that startles me.

My hand starts to tug his shirt upward, just enough to lift the fabric?—

But he stops me.

Gently, firmly, he takes my wrist and pulls back, just enough to break the kiss. His breathing is heavy. So is mine.

And in the quiet that follows, a flicker of something sharp twists inside me. Rejection. It sneaks in fast, before I can talk myself out of it. Before I can remember who he is and what he stands for.

Because every other guy in my past? They never said no. They never even hesitated. And some dark, bruised part of me whispers that maybe Gray’s hesitation means I’m not enough. Not pure enough. Not worthy enough.

I force myself to meet his eyes, searching for anger or disappointment—some confirmation of the lie curling in my chest. But all I see is restraint. Respect. A war inside him that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with God.

Still, the ache lingers. I swallow hard, pressing my free hand against my thigh to ground myself. Why does no feel like failure? Why does being honored feel so close to being unwanted?

I sit back, suddenly aware of what I was doing. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

He reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together.

“Ivy,” he says softly, “you have nothing to apologize for.”

I nod, but the heat in my cheeks says otherwise.

“It’s just…” I trail off. “This is usually the point where things go further. Where guys expect more. And I just assumed…”

He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his thumb resting briefly against my cheek. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to take your clothes off to feel loved.”

My throat tightens.

“A man of God,” he continues, “won’t need you to take your clothes off to see your beauty. He won’t make you guess his intentions. He’ll pray for you—without you asking. And he’ll never ask you to compromise.”

I stare at him, my heart absolutely wrecked in the best way.

“But you’ve…” I swallow. “I mean, you’ve been with someone before, right?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. I wasn’t always following Jesus. But now? Now I’m saving myself for marriage. Not because I don’t want to—I do.” He gives a low laugh. “So badly. But I know it’s important to God. And to me.”

I exhale, relief and longing all tangled together.

“Ivy,” he says, cupping my face in both hands, “you have no idea how badly I want to. But I want to honor you more than I want to indulge in a moment.”

I blink back sudden tears.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He presses his forehead to mine. “We’re not going to rush this. Love doesn’t have to prove itself in heat. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do…is wait.”

I nod again, eyes stinging.

Then, as if on cue, a loud crack splits the silence. The lamp flickers—and dies.

A blown bulb.

I shriek. He jumps.

And just like that, we’re both laughing, tangled in a ridiculous heap of limbs and nerves on my living room floor.

“I’m pretty sure that was God telling us to cool it,” I say between giggles.

Gray grins, rolling onto his back. “Honestly? Can’t even be mad about it.”