Page 11 of Hero After Midnight (Gibson Hollow)

Alia

O utside, the air was cool against my flushed skin, the kind of night that smelled like autumn and felt like memory.

His arm was steady under my hand as we slowly descended the stairs, like neither of us wanted to reach the bottom.

The fabric of his jacket brushed against me with every step, warm and solid and far too easy to lean into.

I wasn’t ready for this to be over.

He stopped beside me. We didn’t speak. Just looked at each other across the narrow space between us, masks still on, like they could somehow hold back the tide of everything that wanted to spill out. My chest ached with the weight of what I wouldn’t let myself ask for. What I didn’t dare believe.

He shifted first. “I’m sorry.” It sounded like it hurt to admit it. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

My heart squeezed. “It’s okay.” Somehow, I kept my voice steady. “You made my night. Thank you for that.”

I didn’t want to think about how it would’ve gone without him.

Another silence, this one thick with all the things we weren’t saying. His gaze swept over my face, searching.

He took one step closer, his hands lifting as if he wanted to touch me. Then he stopped himself. “Can I?—”

“God, yes.”

And then he was kissing me again.

This time, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.

It was heat and hunger and everything we hadn’t dared to reach for until now—every moment we’d danced around what simmered between us, every glance too long, every brush of hands that lingered just a second more than it should have.

His hands found my waist, curving like they’d been made to hold me, and mine curled into the lapels of his jacket like I was afraid he might disappear if I let go.

The world tilted, just a little. Like something had unmoored and started spinning off its axis. Not wildly. Just enough to remind me that nothing would be the same after this.

The kiss wasn’t polite. It wasn’t about testing the waters.

It was claiming something we both already knew belonged to us.

My heart thundered against my ribs. It was dizzying, the way we fit.

The way his mouth moved with mine, like he already knew how I liked to be kissed.

Like he’d imagined this as many times as I had.

It was fire and gravity. A match held too long to paper—far too late to stop it from catching.

And underneath it all, threaded through the fire, was something terrifyingly fragile. Hope.

Hope that this meant something. That we weren’t just playing at fantasy behind masks and midnight.

The kiss said everything we hadn’t. Every longing. Every what if. Every yes we hadn’t gotten to say.

And I didn’t want it to end.

By the time he pulled back—slowly, like it physically pained him—my lungs were dragging in air like I’d forgotten how to breathe.

He touched my cheek, fingers soft but sure. “Okay.” His voice rumbled like gravel. “Into the car with you. Wanna make sure you’re safe.”

Reluctantly, I opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. I didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to break whatever this was between us.

He took my hand one last time and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. He lingered there, slow and reverent, as if he was committing the feel of my skin to memory. I wanted to close my eyes to do the same, but I didn’t dare.

“Goodnight.”

The word clung to my skin like a promise I wanted to chase.

“Goodnight.”

He stepped back, shutting the door himself. Then he made the locking gesture, and waited—watchful, steady—as I clicked the locks and started the engine.

With one last double tap of the hood in farewell, he was gone.

He vanished surprisingly fast for a guy built like a Mack truck.

Goodbye, Cinderfella.

My lips quirked with the thought even as his sudden absence snapped the spell, glitter turning to glass underfoot.

Arms hugged across my middle, I turned on the heat, and then sat for a long minute.

I wasn’t cold. Not really. But I wanted to cling to the lingering sensation of Ramsey’s arms around me, to the tingle on my knuckles where he’d kissed them and made me swoon.

To the feeling of giddy possibility still bubbling inside me like champagne.

Eventually, I eased the car into gear, driving on autopilot while my thoughts stayed tangled in a tuxedo and a mask and the way he’d looked at me like I was something rare.

Campus blurred past, quiet and soft around the edges, like the night itself was holding its breath with me.

I didn’t turn on the radio. I didn’t need anything else filling the silence on the drive to Blair’s.

I was still floating by the time I knocked.

She opened her apartment door, and I stepped inside with a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh, my hand curled around my clutch.

I could still feel the imprint of his fingers tangled with mine.

Still taste the kiss that had made everything inside me feel dizzy and new.

My bestie took one look at me and grinned like the cat who’d discovered the cream. “Oh, my God. You look like you just got kissed and liked it.”

I bit back the smile that threatened to give me away and turned toward the wall of silver-screen goddess movie posters that dominated her living room as if they were suddenly fascinating. “Maybe.”

She snorted and danced in front of me on bare feet. “Girl. Maybe?” She stretched the word with delighted, scandalized disbelief. “No. No, no. That smile is not a maybe. That’s a ten-out-of-ten, would-kiss-again, let’s-do-something-stupid smile.”

I didn’t answer right away. Mostly because I was still trying to figure out how to explain something I hadn’t fully let myself believe yet. Something that still felt delicate and private, like a secret I hadn’t decided whether I was allowed to keep or share.

“Thanks for loaning me your car. It was good to be able to leave when I wanted. Can you give me a lift home? I’m pretty beat.”

“Of course, sugar plum. But don’t think you’re getting out of the interrogation.”

We reversed, heading back out of the apartment to her RAV-4 and piling in. Blair didn’t even wait until the red light at the end of her street.

“So.” She dragged the syllable out like a threat. “Start talking. I want every detail. Did he have a name? Did he have a face? Was he hot or only masquerade-magic hot?”

I laughed, soft and still a little dazed, letting my head tip back against the seat. The interior of the car was warm and a little stuffy, and I was still floating in that weird space between memory and fantasy where everything felt too beautiful to touch.

“There was a guy,” I admitted. “Stranger in a mask.” He hadn’t been a stranger at all. Not really. But that detail felt too precious to reveal.

Blair let out a delighted gasp. “Finally.”

“We danced.” My voice drifted with the rhythm of the road. “We kissed.”

Blair made a sound that could only be described as a full-body squee and thumped the steering wheel. “How was it?”

I exhaled a long, contented sigh. “He kissed me like a secret.”

Blair squealed again. “You’re getting positively lyrical. You should write that down.”

“Maybe I will.” Along with the rest of this personal fairy tale.

“And then what?”

A little of the glow faded. “And then he left.”

Her head whipped in my direction. “Wait, what? Left?”

“Had somewhere to be.” Of course, he hadn’t said where, but I knew it must’ve been important. Because I knew him.

“That’s it?” she demanded. “You’re gonna drop that like a mic and move on?”

I smiled, still staring out the passenger window, watching our sleepy college campus blur past. “It was late.”

“And mysterious.”

“And magical.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it was true.

Blair’s eyes cut toward me, sharp even as she turned. “Okay, so are you seeing him again?”

My heart tripped over itself at the question. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t as if we’d made plans. Or as if either of us had been willing to break the alleged anonymity of the masks. Because reality was complicated.

She frowned. “Well, did you get his name at least?”

I hesitated, lips twitching. “No.”

Blair’s groan was dramatic enough to rival any theater kid. “Alia. What were you thinking?”

I didn’t answer. Only smiled to myself and let my fingers drift to the edge of the clutch in my lap. I already knew. Surely he did, too.

Blair gave me a sideways look, exasperated but not unkind. “So what now? You wait and hope the Universe hands him back to you?”

I shrugged, still smiling, eyes tracking the soft wash of streetlights across the windshield. “Something like that.”

Blair pulled up to the curb and shifted into park with a flourish, throwing the car into neutral like she was dropping me off after a covert mission. She leaned across the console and shot me a grin. “Text me if he shows up on your doorstep. Or breaks into your dreams. Either way, I want details.”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled as I unbuckled and reached for the door. “Night, Blair.”

“Good night, mysterious masked maiden.”

I shut the door behind me and waved once before the RAV-4 pulled away, her taillights fading down the street. The quiet that followed wrapped around me like a blanket, the sudden stillness both calming and welcome after the noise of the masquerade.

The front steps creaked under my heels as I climbed them, letting myself into the apartment.

The lights were off. Bodie wasn’t home yet, and I was absurdly glad for the emptiness.

If he’d been here, he’d have taken one look at me and known.

Not only that something had happened, but what.

He always knew. And I wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

Not yet. Saying it made it real, and I was still floating in that in-between space where everything was too precious to touch.

The door shut behind me with a soft click, and I paused in the entryway, exhaling slowly. The mask was still on; the ties pulling slightly at the back of my head where I’d knotted them hours ago. I reached up, hesitated, then let my hand fall.

Not yet.

I moved on autopilot through the apartment, kicking off my heels with a sigh of relief. I padded toward my bedroom, clutch still in hand, mask still on, heart still beating like I’d danced all the way home.

Inside my room, I let the door close behind me and flicked on the overhead light. The sudden illumination felt stark. I dialed it down to the bedside lamp instead, letting the rest of the room stay swathed in shadow.

The mask came off first. I untied the ribbon and slid it away from my face, letting the cool satin trail across my fingers.

I stared at it for a long moment before setting it gently on the dresser, like it might still be holding some residual charge from the night.

Like it was fragile and important and maybe a little bit holy.

Then the dress—unzip, slide down, fold over the back of my desk chair. Each motion deliberate. As if I was trying not to disturb whatever spell might still be clinging to my skin.

I padded into the bathroom and flipped on the light.

It buzzed softly, fluorescent and unforgiving.

Still, I leaned in toward the mirror. Earrings and necklace off.

Lipstick wiped away with a tissue that caught the ghost of his kiss.

Then I scrubbed away the rest of my war paint with oil-based cleanser and rinsed away the last of the armor.

The girl in the mirror didn’t look that different. Same long-lashed eyes, same sharp cheekbones, same stubborn mouth. But she felt different. Like maybe something had shifted behind her eyes. Like maybe she wasn’t only pretending to be fearless anymore.

I studied myself a little longer, then turned off the light.

Still barefoot, still humming with aftershocks, I crossed back into my room, swapping the fancy underwear for my most comfortable pajamas before I crawled into bed and reached for my phone. I stared at the lock screen for a long moment, then opened the messaging app.

No new texts.

Of course not.

I know it was you. I hovered over the keyboard for a second, even typed out a single letter before deleting it.

What if I was wrong? I mean, I knew I wasn’t. I knew down to my marrow it had been Ramsey. But on the infinitesimal chance it hadn’t been…

He’d had the chance to reveal himself, and he hadn’t taken it. Maybe he had reasons for that. I suspected I shared DNA with at least some of them.

If this was real—if it had meant something—he’d find me. The next move was his.

I set the phone aside, burrowed under the covers, and let myself smile, still feeling the whisper of his kiss. It hadn’t been a dream. And I wasn’t ready to let go of that yet.