Page 11

CHAPTER TEN

ALLY

It’s past midnight when I wander into the kitchen. The house is quiet, the kind of hush that only settles when everyone’s asleep or pretending to be. Warm light from under the cabinets is all that illuminates the kitchen.

I open the fridge, not even sure what I’m looking for. Maybe a snack. Maybe clarity. Maybe just something to ground me.

Footsteps creak behind me.

Of course. Rhys.

“You always rummage through the fridge like you’re expecting to find life’s answers behind the yogurt?”

His voice is teasing, but there’s an edge of something else to it—something quieter. I glance over my shoulder. He’s barefoot, his hoodie hanging loose around his shoulders, and his hair tousled like he’s been tossing and turning instead of sleeping. His eyes are shadowed but sharp like he knows I’m the reason he can’t sleep either.

“Better than standing in doorways being dramatic,” I shoot back.

He steps farther into the kitchen, brushing past me to grab two glasses. “Touché. Want water?”

I nod, and he fills both glasses from the fridge door, handing me one. Our fingers brush, and I feel it—that same charged undercurrent that’s been building for weeks. Maybe years.

We lean against opposite counters, sipping in silence for a beat.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.

“My brain won’t shut off,” I admit. “Too many tabs open.”

He smiles softly. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Another quiet stretch. It should feel awkward, but it doesn’t. It feels… loaded. Like we’re both waiting for someone to call “cut” and reset the scene.

“Everything okay with school?” he asks.

I shrug. “It’s fine. Just overwhelming.”

He studies me over the rim of his glass. “And your health?”

I stiffen. “I’m fine.” I know he’s noticed something off about me, but I’m not ready to talk about it.

He doesn’t push. Just nods. “Let me know if it gets worse. Or if you need anything,” he says, confirming he knows.

“You’re not responsible for me, Rhys.”

His jaw tics. “I know I’m not. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to look out for you. You said you were willing to give us a shot. But now you are walking around like I’m a stranger and angry at me.”

My chest tightens. He says it so easily and like it’s obvious.

“Why do you do that?”

He raises a brow. "Do what?"

“Say things like that.”

He looks down, then slowly back up at me. “Because it’s the truth, and I mean it. I care about you, Ally. I want you.”

“I know I promised to give it a shot. The transition from not having you to having you right there is difficult.”

The words hang between us. Raw. Honest. A little broken.

Rhys steps closer, but not enough to close the gap. “Ally?—"

“Don’t,” I mutter. I know if he touches me now, I may break.

He looks like he wants to. Like he wants to grab me and never let me go. But he stops himself.

“You deserve to have what you want,” he says quietly. “We deserve this.”

“Please just give me some time to wrap my head around it all,” I whisper.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Steps back.

In a flash, the moment was over.

We finish our water, but I’m not sure either of us tastes it.

“You know,” I say, trying to fill the silence, “this house gets too quiet sometimes.”

“It’s never quiet when Arden is awake,” he mutters.

I smile, a little weakly. “I mean emotionally quiet. Like everyone knows something's brewing, but no one wants to be the one to call it out.”

Rhys exhales, leaning his head back against the cabinet. “Yeah. That tracks.”

“They all know.”

“I know.”

I glance down at my glass.

“So why are we still pretending?” he asks.

I don’t answer right away, and when I do, my voice is lower and more vulnerable. “Because once we stop pretending, there’s no going back.”

I step towards him. Just a little. The need to close the gap consuming me, the tension sparks again.

“Maybe I don’t want to go back,” he says, and I hear the honesty in his tone.

I’m unsure how to reply.

I laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “Rhys, we’ve been orbiting each other for years. What if the gravity changes and we crash?”

“What if we don't? What if it finally feels like home?” Rhys looks at me as though he’s never seen me before. Or maybe for the hundredth time, but finally letting himself believe it matters.

“Come outside,” he says suddenly.

I blink. "It’s freezing."

“Bring a blanket. Just trust me.”

So, I do.

We grab a couple of throw blankets and creep out to the back patio, the night air crisp against our skin. The stars are shockingly clear, and the quiet hum of distant traffic mixes with the gentle rustle of trees.

We sit side by side on the outdoor lounge, blanket draped over our legs. The closeness is too intimate for casual but not quite close enough to be a confession.

“When I think about the future,” Rhys says quietly, “I see you there.”

My breath hitches.

“Even when I tried not to,” he continues. “Even when I thought it wasn’t allowed. You were always... there.”

My fingers tighten around the blanket's edge. “Then why did you never say anything?”

“Because I was afraid. And because I thought you deserved better. I didn’t know how to tell you the truth about Ashley, it wasn’t until Yasmin asked that about her that night that I blurted out everything I was hiding.”

I turn my face towards him. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Taking yourself out of the running. Acting like you’re not already everything I want.”

He turns, too, and our faces are inches apart. Close enough to kiss.

“If we do this,” he murmurs, “I’m not walking away. Not again. I’m not a confused fourteen-year-old anymore.”

My heart pounds. “Then maybe it's time we stop dancing around it.” I push away the doubt and hide in the darkness. I allow myself this moment.

He leans in. I brace.

But at the last second, I pull away.

“Not tonight,” I whisper. “But soon.”

His smile is soft. “I can wait.”

And somehow, that feels like the real beginning of something.