Ava woke slowly.
Not the sharp kind of waking that came with alarms or anxiety—but the gentle kind, where awareness drifted back in pieces.
Warmth.
A steady rise and fall beneath her cheek.
The faint scent of clean soap and something unmistakably Nicholas.
Her eyes fluttered open.
She froze.
For half a second, panic sparked—until memory rushed in all at once.
The date.
The way he looked at her across the table.
His voice in the dark.
Tell me if you want me to stop.
And her answer.
No… don't.
Her fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of his shirt.
Nicholas was still asleep.
On his back, one arm bent above his head, the other resting loosely around her waist like it had always belonged there. His golden hair was messier than usual, lashes dark against his cheeks, his face softer than she'd ever seen it.
Not the confident campus king.
Not the teasing menace.
Just… a man. Peaceful. Vulnerable.
Her chest tightened.
She shifted slightly, testing the moment—testing reality.
He stirred.
Not fully awake. Just enough to pull her closer, his arm tightening reflexively around her as if his body recognized her before his mind did.
Ava held her breath.
Nicholas murmured something under his breath—low, rough, unintelligible.
Then his eyes opened.
For a split second, confusion flickered.
Then he looked down.
At her.
And something in his expression changed completely.
His gaze softened—not into a smile, not into a smirk—but into something quiet and real that made Ava's throat ache.
"Hey," he said softly, voice still heavy with sleep.
"Hey," she whispered back.
They stayed like that for a moment. No rush. No embarrassment. Just breathing each other in.
Nicholas lifted his hand slowly, brushing his thumb across her cheek like he needed to confirm she was actually there.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yeah. I just… didn't expect to wake up like this."
He exhaled a faint breath that almost sounded like relief.
"Me neither," he admitted.
That surprised her.
"You didn't?" she asked.
Nicholas's jaw tightened briefly, like he was choosing his words carefully.
"I'm used to mornings meaning nothing," he said quietly. "This one feels… different."
Her heart skipped.
Different.
The word settled between them, heavy with implication.
Ava shifted up on her elbow, looking at him properly now. "Different… how?"
He met her gaze.
"Like I don't want to pretend it didn't happen."
Her breath caught.
She searched his face, looking for irony. For casual detachment. For the version of Nicholas Wolfe everyone warned her about.
She didn't find it.
Instead, she saw honesty. And something dangerously close to tenderness.
"I don't regret it," she said softly.
Nicholas's eyes darkened—not with heat, but with something deeper.
"Good," he murmured. "Because neither do I."
Silence followed—but not the awkward kind.
The comfortable kind.
The kind that wraps around you and makes you forget the rest of the world exists.
Nicholas leaned down and pressed a slow kiss to her forehead. Not rushed. Not hungry. Just… careful.
Ava closed her eyes.
This felt intimate in a way the night hadn't prepared her for.
"Stay," he said quietly. Not a command. Not a demand. Just a request.
She hesitated for half a heartbeat.
Then nodded. "Okay."
They didn't talk much after that.
They lay there, tracing lazy lines against skin, sharing quiet smiles, learning each other in the small details—how he liked his fingers laced with hers, how she tucked her face against his shoulder when she laughed softly, how neither of them pulled away.
Eventually, sunlight spilled fully into the room.
Reality crept closer.
Classes. Campus. People.
Nicholas sighed softly. "We should probably get up before Noah barges in."
She laughed—a soft, real sound that surprised even her.
"Does he do that often?"
"Too often," Nicholas said dryly.
He shifted, reluctantly releasing her, and Ava felt the loss instantly.
She sat up, pulling the sheet around herself, suddenly shy in the daylight.
Nicholas noticed.
He reached out, gently hooking a finger under her chin.
"Hey," he said. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Pull away." His voice softened. "You don't have to."
Her chest tightened.
"I just… don't want this to be something you wake up and forget," she admitted.
Nicholas's expression changed—something flickered behind his eyes.
Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.
"I don't forget things that matter," he said quietly.
And the way he said it—so certain, so sincere—made Ava believe him.
Too much.
She dressed slowly, every movement aware of him watching her—not possessively, but attentively.
At the door, she paused.
"Nicholas?"
"Yeah?"
"This… what are we doing?"
He stepped closer, not touching her this time.
"We're not rushing," he said. "We're not hiding. And we're not pretending it didn't happen."
He smiled faintly. "We'll figure it out. Together."
Ava nodded.
She left his room with her heart full—and dangerously open.
Behind her, Nicholas stood still for a long moment after the door closed.
The warmth lingered.
So did the weight.
Because for the first time, the dare didn't feel like a game anymore.
It felt like a secret.
And secrets had a way of breaking things that felt this real.