Chapter 10 Just us

The room was quiet.

Not library quiet - real quiet. The kind that settles in the walls, that breathes with you.

Brianna sat cross-legged on her bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Her hair was still damp from the rain earlier that afternoon. The air was cool, the window cracked open just enough to let the breeze in. Outside, the sky was dim, already shifting into dusk.

Malvin sat beside her, leaning back against the headboard, one hand resting loosely between them.

Neither of them had said much since he arrived.

He'd texted simply:

> "Your room. Not for studying."

And she had let him in.

Not just into the room.

But into whatever this was becoming.

Now, with her knee brushing his thigh and the air thick with unsaid things, she finally looked at him.

"You're quiet," she said.

"I talk when it matters."

She gave him a sideways glance. "And this doesn't?"

He turned his head toward her - calm, direct. "This matters more than anything I've said all week."

She didn't answer. Her throat was tight, her heart louder than her thoughts.

He reached out and gently touched her hand, his thumb brushing over the edge of her sleeve. "If you're not ready, I won't take it personally."

Brianna met his eyes, steady now.

"I am," she whispered. "I just... don't want it to be something we forget."

He leaned in, closer than close, so close she could feel the words leave his mouth. "I don't forget things that mean something."

Then he kissed her.

Not like the rooftop.

This kiss was deeper. Slower. A promise.

His hand found the side of her face, her jaw, her hair. She melted into him, her fingers curling around the front of his hoodie. Everything around them faded - the breeze, the world, the past.

Clothes were shed slowly, like fear falling away. His skin against hers felt like warmth after a long storm. Her body trembled, but not from fear. From knowing.

Malvin touched her like she was something fragile but not broken. Like he wasn't trying to fix her - just hold her where she was whole.

When they finally lay still, tangled in sheets and silence, his arm draped loosely around her waist, he whispered against her shoulder:

"I don't know what happens next. But I want to find out with you."

And Brianna, eyes closed, heart full, simply nodded.

Because for the first time in years, she didn't feel haunted.

She felt held.