Listen to Conversations in the Dark by John Legend.

I sat outside the café, under the shade sails, the warm breeze ruffling the pages of my unread book. My eyes kept darting down the street, scanning for the one face I knew would bring me a sense of calm. Belvina.

Ten minutes had passed since I arrived. Ten long minutes. I pulled out my phone again and glanced at the screen—no new messages. I'd texted her six minutes ago, a simple "Hey, everything okay?" but the silence felt like an eternity.

The café was buzzing with life, as usual. The tables outside were nearly full now, the patrons sipping coffee and laughing in the afternoon sun. It had that perfect blend of energy and peace, the kind of place where you could lose track of time without realizing it. No wonder Belvina loved it here.

I couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at my chest. Was she okay? I texted her again, asking if everything was alright. Still no reply.

My fingers tapped nervously against the wood of the table, my phone in hand. I picked it up and dialed her number, the ringing sound taunting me until it went to voicemail.

Should I go to the hospital? My lunch break was slipping away fast—12:50 already—and I had rescheduled an important interview just to make time for her. I was hoping for at least a couple of uninterrupted hours.

I leaned back in my chair, adjusting my sunglasses as they slipped down my nose. My mind raced.

Suddenly, I heard her voice, faint but unmistakable. "Adrian?"

I shot up from my seat, scanning the street. There she was, walking toward me, out of breath but with that familiar, warm smile lighting up her face.

"Vixen!" I said, before closing the distance between us and pulling her into my arms.

Her small body fit perfectly against mine as she relaxed into the hug. I could feel the tension draining from her as her arms tightened around me. This was exactly what she needed. What we both needed.

"I was starting to think you stood me up," I teased, pulling away just enough to look at her.

Her lips curled into a sheepish smile, but her hazel eyes were tired. "Sorry, I was assigned to help in the operating room."

She sank into the chair across from me, and I noticed a few curls of her dark hair had escaped the usual neatness, falling around her face in a tousled mess. Her eyes were glassy, and she kept rubbing them, as though trying to shake off the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin.

"But good news," she said with a soft smile, her dimples making an appearance, "I've got an hour break, so we've got time."

I let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God," I said, feeling the tight knot in my chest finally begin to loosen.

"Was it your first time helping in surgery?" I asked, eyeing her carefully, noticing how pale she looked.

She nodded, her fingers curling around the cup of coffee I had already ordered for her. "Yeah, it was nerve-wracking. I was so scared I'd mess up. My legs wouldn't stop trembling." She sighed, pushing a stray curl behind her ear, but the soft laugh that followed was more self-deprecating than anything. "I'm just glad no one noticed."

I reached across the table, taking her hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her fingers. She met my gaze, and I squeezed her hand gently, offering her silent reassurance.

"You're the bravest person I know. I'm sure you did great," I said, my voice steady, confident.

She gave me a doubtful look, but before she could say anything, she dropped her head into her palms with a groan. "Can you believe I forgot what a tissue forceps was? I literally stood there like a deer in headlights."

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Okay, enough talk about work," I said, leaning a little closer, not wanting to let her get lost in her self-criticism.

She lifted her head, blinking at me through tired eyes. "Sorry. I'm still mad at myself. How long have you been waiting?"

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Not long. Just five minutes."

She arched a brow. "Liar. I saw your texts," she said with a teasing smile.

I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Guilty," I said, smiling back at her.

"What would you like?" I asked, grabbing the menu, trying to distract her from whatever was still bothering her.

"Blueberry scone and a caramel vanilla mocha latte, please," she replied, sounding so tired, but still managing to pull off that sweetness I adored.

I waved the waitress over and placed the order, then returned my focus to Belvina, who was absentmindedly playing with the rings on my fingers, her small hands enveloping mine like they were too big for her.

"You look good," she said suddenly, her frown returning as she glanced at my casual outfit. "Sorry you're stuck hanging out with a sack of potatoes."

I smirked, refusing to let her talk down about herself. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that. And by the way, you still look stunning in your scrubs. I never thought scrubs could be sexy, but then I saw you in one."

She laughed, shaking her head. "What? Seriously?"

I leaned back in my chair, watching her with a grin. "Seriously. It's the way they fit... just right," I said, exaggerating the look on my face.

"You're just trying to make me feel better," she said, but her smile was soft, and the laugh in her voice made me want to kiss her on the spot.

The waitress arrived with our order, and I could see the exhaustion etched across Belvina's face. I wanted nothing more than to sweep her away, drive her home, and tuck her in bed, just to watch her sleep peacefully.

"Have some," she said, offering me a piece of her scone. "These are really nice."

I winced. "I'd love to, but I'm allergic to blueberries."

Her jaw dropped, her hazel eyes widening in disbelief. "Oh," she said with a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry. I should've asked first."

I chuckled. "It's okay. Just... no accidental poisoning in the future."

She laughed, but then asked with a raised brow, "Any other allergies I should know about?"

"Nope, just blueberries." I smirked, then added, "What about you?"

She leaned back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "If alcohol counts, then yes," she said, before taking another bite of her scone.

We continued talking for a few more minutes, just letting the conversation flow, until it was time to take her back to the hospital.

"See you on Saturday?" I asked, giving her a warm smile.

"Of course," she replied, glancing at the clock.

"Not even a goodbye kiss, Vixen?" I teased, stepping closer to her.

She leaned in, but I turned my head at the last second, capturing her soft lips in a quick kiss. Her smile was infectious, and she pulled away, shaking her head with that sweet smile of hers.

"I miss you already," I said, my fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm already two minutes late," she whispered, a little guilty.

I pulled her in for a tight hug, ignoring the risk of making her even later. "What about one more hug?" I asked, my arms still wrapped around her.

"Hmmm, tempting," she said, stepping back, "but I don't trust you right now."

With that, she turned and walked toward the entrance, glancing back at me once more. When she smiled, I felt my heart do a backflip.

I stood there, watching her walk inside, unable to take my eyes off her. As she disappeared into the building, I couldn't stop smiling like an idiot.

I drove back to the office, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles were white. The lost smile on my face was a mask I couldn't shake, even though it felt like my whole chest had been hollowed out. The memory of Belvina's smile, the way her fingers brushed my skin as we said goodbye, lingered in my mind like a fading warmth—but it wasn't enough to stop the ache from growing.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, the buzz pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. I glanced down, expecting an email, but instead, I saw the notification: Instagram.

I cursed under my breath.

For a moment, I hesitated. I should ignore it, should focus on getting back to work, not drown in social media. But I couldn't help myself. I opened the app, my heart skipping when Belvina's page popped up. The first thing I saw was a video—a simple hair tutorial she'd posted earlier that day. I clicked on it, telling myself it was just for the distraction, but deep down, I knew I was just craving the sound of her voice.

I watched her, captivated by the way she laughed softly to herself, her hands weaving through her hair as she explained a new style. It was simple, but it was hers. I could listen to her talk about anything.

When the video ended, I lingered a moment longer, fingers hovering over the screen. Then, reluctantly, I scrolled down, my mind still buzzing with thoughts of her.

But then I saw it.

A picture.

It hit me like a physical blow to the gut.

It was a photo of —William—posing in front of a gym banner with a bright, cocky grin, a caption underneath that made my stomach churn.

"Excited to announce I'm heading to the Olympics next year. Dreams coming true! #hardwork #nevergiveup"

My vision narrowed, the words blurring together. My fist clenched instinctively, my jaw locking as a wave of rage surged through me. I could feel it in my veins, that old anger, that old bitterness, rising up again like a sickening tide I thought I had buried long ago.

I knew it was stupid. I shouldn't click. I shouldn't let him have this power over me, this trigger that sent me back to that night, back to all the ways we were betrayed. But I clicked anyway.

The post was a reminder. A reminder of everything I lost, everything that —and —had stolen from me. And now he was going to the Olympics? After everything? After what happened that night?

I wanted to punch something. No, I wanted to punch .

With trembling hands, I turned off the phone, my breath coming out in harsh bursts. My anger was a storm, whipping through me, cutting through every other thought. I didn't trust myself to stay in the car for another second. I threw open the door and stormed out.

The walk from the parking lot to the building felt endless. My mind raced, and every step was heavier than the last. The elevator doors pinged open, and I stepped inside, my reflection in the polished metal door a ghost of the man I used to be.

When I reached the top floor, I waved at Elise in passing, offering her a small, tight-lipped smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. She gave me a puzzled look, but I didn't stop to explain. I needed to see Tristan.

I was relieved to find him in his office, the door slightly ajar. When he saw the look on my face, his expression shifted, and he dismissed the accountant from the table without a second glance.

"Lunch date gone wrong?" he guessed, leaning back in his chair.

I didn't answer at first. My chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of years of unresolved anger pressing down on me.

"No," I said finally, my voice low, rough. "It went great."

Tristan raised an eyebrow but didn't push. Instead, he waited, his eyes narrowing as he sensed there was more.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with concern.

I could feel the tension building, the words I had been holding back for so long burning their way to the surface. I gripped the edge of the desk as if it could ground me.

"William," I choked out, my fists tightening at my sides. "He's going to the Olympics next year."

Tristan's face softened, but his eyes were sharp, searching mine. "Adrian, you promised you'd let go of this. Are you following him now?"

"No," I snapped, feeling the heat of my frustration flash. "I just... I just saw it. His post on Instagram. I didn't mean to, but I... I couldn't stop myself."

He leaned forward, his expression turning more serious. "Don't think about it. You can't control it, man."

"How can I not think about it, Tristan?" I shot back, the words escaping before I could stop them. "How can I just forget everything? He was there that night. He was part of it. He's going to the fucking Olympics, and I—" My throat closed, and I had to pause, swallowing hard.

Tristan was silent for a beat, his gaze steady. "We've talked about this. We both tried to move on, but there's nothing else we can do. Karma's going to catch up with them sooner or later."

I slammed my fist against the desk, making the papers rattle. "It still sucks, man. It fucking sucks. They got away with it, and now he's getting everything he wants."

I was breathing hard now, the adrenaline still surging through me, but Tristan's voice cut through the storm inside me.

"Adrian," he said, his tone calm but firm. "You've got a job here. And you're about to start something good with a girl you really like. Focus on that."

He was right. was right. But the rage didn't just vanish. It lingered beneath the surface, gnawing at my insides.

"Yeah," I muttered, forcing a smile that felt fake even to me. "I should focus on my date with the most amazing girl in the world."

Tristan gave me a half-smile, slapping me on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. You'll figure it out. Just don't fuck it up."

"Got any tips?" I asked, trying to sound light. But the anxiety was there, creeping up again. "I'm a little nervous. I don't want to mess this up."

He chuckled. "You should ask Cassie. She knows more about her than I do."

I grimaced. "Cassie's still mad at me for missing the toast and photoshoot."

"Good for you," Tristan laughed. "Now, get your ass up. We've got a meeting at 3:00."

I let out a sigh and gave him a nod. "Thanks, man."

He smiled, a bit more sincere now. "Anytime, bro."

###

I followed Tristan's sleek black Porsche SUV as we drove through the quiet streets toward his place. The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in shades of purple and deep blue. As we pulled into the long driveway, I parked behind his car, my headlights briefly illuminating the grandeur of the three-story mansion. It was the kind of house that made you feel like you were walking onto the set of a movie about power and wealth.

I left my suit jacket in the car, not bothering to adjust it. The last thing I needed tonight was to come off looking too polished. I followed Tristan up the wide stone steps, the soft sound of his footsteps ahead of me a reminder that his life was one of effortless success.

As soon as we stepped into the foyer, a small voice squeaked, shattering the quiet.

"Daddy!"

I glanced around, bewildered. How did she even know he was home?

Before I could process it, Kayla came barreling toward Tristan, her little legs tapping the floor with determination. Kayden, not to be outdone, was hot on her heels, his tiny feet nearly tripping over one another in his rush. Tristan knelt down effortlessly, scooping both kids into his arms like they weighed nothing.

"I miss you tiny angels so much," he murmured, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. Kayla giggled as he nuzzled her, and even Kayden gave a toothy grin, his small hands reaching for Tristan's tie like it was the best toy ever.

"Where's mommy?" Tristan asked, his voice playful as he began to walk toward the living room, the kids still in his arms, now fighting over who could touch his tie more.

"Right here," came Chloe's voice from the kitchen. "Sorry, I was trying to save the brownies from the oven."

She emerged in navy sweatpants and a simple white top, looking effortlessly chic despite the kitchen mishap. She shot Tristan a look—one of those playful, familiar looks that spoke volumes of their years together. Tristan met her gaze with the same warmth, grinning as he leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips.

"You smell nice," he said, his voice filled with a teasing fondness.

Chloe arched an eyebrow. "You mean like burnt oven?"

Tristan chuckled, then turned his attention to me. "Someone came to see you," he said, nodding in my direction.

I offered Chloe a smile, trying to keep my tone casual despite the tension I still felt. "Hi, Chloe."

Her arms were already open before I could say anything else, pulling me into a quick, tight hug. I breathed in the familiar scent of her—like fresh air and something warm, something homey.

"I've not forgotten what happened at the engagement party," she said as she pulled away, her eyes locking onto mine with a knowing look.

I winced, rubbing the back of my neck. "I'm sorry. We should've stayed longer, but I couldn't help it..." My voice trailed off, and I could feel the apology lingering in the air, an unspoken understanding between us.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Look at you. You're all love-struck, like a teenager." She laughed, and I couldn't help but grin back.

"Blame it on your best friend," I said, slipping my hands into my pockets, trying to shrug off the awkwardness.

She raised an eyebrow, her tone shifting. "I heard about the date. How's it going? Any progress?"

I hesitated, glancing down at my shoes, the weight of the question hanging over me. When I finally met her gaze, I could feel my heart beat a little faster. "Yeah, that's why I'm here," I said, running a hand through my hair. "I'm not sure what Belvina envisions for the perfect date. I don't want to mess this up. She's... unpredictable. Different from any other girl I've ever dated. I want this to be a day she'll never forget."

Chloe's smile softened, and she gave me a knowing look. "Vina can be extra sometimes, but she's really a simple person at heart. Try not to overdo it, okay?"

I nodded, taking in her words. "She hates basketball games. What does she like to do?"

Chloe smirked, clearly enjoying my frustration. "Swimming. Unless you want to perform a solo at a basketball game, in which case, she'll probably pass out on you."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "I'll pass on the performance. Does she have a favorite place?"

Chloe's face lit up as if a lightbulb had gone off. "Yes! Reyes! She's obsessed with that place. It's been years since we've gone, though. I hope it's still there. It's this beautiful spot by the coast. There's a bridge there she loves to climb, takes pictures from the top. It's perfect, especially if you get there before sunset."

"That sounds perfect," I said, a little relief in my voice. "Thanks, Chloe."

"Don't thank me yet," she said with a teasing smile. "I don't even know if it's still the same. Vina took me there when we were in 10th grade."

I ran a hand through my hair again. "Guess I'll have to check it out for myself then. Might cancel the reservation I made yesterday."

"Don't stress about it," she said, nudging me lightly with her elbow. "It'll be fine. You'll figure it out."

"Are you sure you're not secretly trying to sabotage me?" I grinned, feeling a little more at ease.

She raised an eyebrow, her smile sharp. "Are you staying for dinner?"

I shook my head. "I can't. I need to check out Reyes before it gets too late. You still remember how to get there, right?"

Chloe crossed her arms and shot me a look. "I'll tell you after dinner."

I groaned inwardly but knew I had no choice. "Thanks, Chloe."

Before I could escape, Kayden threw a small NFL ball at me, his chubby hands aiming carefully despite his tiny size. I caught it with ease, grinning as he let out a triumphant "Thwow!" before raising his hands, expecting me to throw it back.

I tossed it gently, more like setting it in his hands than actually throwing it, and watched as he ran off, giggling and pretending to be a pro football player.

"Okay, that kid's been watching way too many NFL games," I muttered, laughing to myself.

Tristan, walking down the stairs with Kayla perched on his shoulders, grinned. "More than you think, my friend."

"Where's Morris?" I asked, glancing around for their ever-present butler.

"He's on vacation with his family," Tristan replied. "Cassie, you need help in the kitchen?" he called out loudly.

"No, I'm good!" Chloe yelled back, clearly enjoying her time in the kitchen.

"No, she's not," Tristan whispered to me with a wink before heading toward the kitchen to help, leaving me to contemplate my next steps.

###

It was just after four when I pulled into the parking lot of Belvina's apartment, the tires of my car humming against the asphalt as I came to a stop. The late afternoon sun slanted through the windshield, casting golden streaks across the interior. I glanced down at the flowers and chocolate resting on the passenger seat, the weight of them almost symbolic. A sigh slipped from my lips. I'd been second-guessing myself for the last hour, wondering if flowers would be too much—too cliché—but the truth was, I couldn't care less. If it made her smile, it was worth the cheese.

I grabbed the bouquet, straightened my denim jacket, and stepped out of the car, shaking off the nerves that had started creeping in. I wasn't used to this, not with Belvina. With her, every moment felt like a high-stakes game—she had a way of making me want to be smarter, sharper, more of the man I kept pretending I was.

As I walked toward the elevator, I noticed an elderly woman rolling a trolley inside. She looked me up and down and offered me a knowing smile, her wrinkles deepening with the effort.

"Is that for your girlfriend?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Yeah," I said, feeling my chest puff up a little. "I think she'll like it."

"She will," the woman assured me, a wide grin spreading across her face as if she could see something I couldn't. "She'll love it."

I smiled awkwardly, murmuring a thank-you as she wheeled her cart past me. When the elevator doors slid open, I caught my reflection in the mirrored walls—black dress pants, a t-shirt, and a jacket that looked far too casual for what I was about to do. Still, I looked good, and that was enough.

I brushed my hand through my hair, the familiar, almost comforting motion grounding me before I knocked on her door.

It swung open almost immediately, revealing Belvina in sweatpants and the hoodie I'd let her borrow the last time she'd stayed over. Her hair was in wild, half-curled chaos as she tugged at it, attempting to tame the beast. I almost laughed. It was so —messy, unbothered, but still somehow effortlessly stunning.

"Hey, sorry I'm a mess," she said, glancing over her shoulder as she walked back into her apartment. "Just got back from the store."

"Only you could look so good while 'being a mess.'" I followed her inside, shutting the door behind me.

"I brought you flowers and chocolate," I said, trying to act cool, though I was secretly hoping she'd love the gesture. "You know me, I can't show up empty-handed."

She picked up the flowers, her smile turning into a soft, appreciative curve of her lips. "Hershey's? You know me."

I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face, the pride in knowing I'd nailed her favorites.

"Can you give me a few minutes?" she asked, casually unwrapping a chocolate bar. Her lips, soft and tempting, wrapped around the piece of candy, and I had to force myself to look away before I did something stupid.

"Sure. Take your time."

She didn't waste a moment, though. "No, you're coming to help me get ready." She grabbed my arm with a firmness that had me smirking. She didn't give a damn about my protest, dragging me toward her room like I didn't stand a chance in hell of saying no.

Her room was exactly how I remembered—full of old vinyl records scattered across the floor, colorful posters peeling from the walls. She had this undeniable pull to her, like a magnet, and it felt like being pulled into another world whenever I was here.

"Do you know how to use a flat iron?" she asked, pointing to the sleek device plugged into the wall. Her eyes danced with the kind of mischief I knew all too well.

"There's a first time for everything," I said, grabbing the iron with all the confidence of someone who had no idea what he was doing.

"Let me show you," she said, sitting down on the vanity chair.

She instructed me through the steps—holding the hair, clamping the iron down, pulling gently. I fumbled at first, feeling like a clumsy fool, but her laughter was light, teasing, and it had me wanting to do better just to see her smile.

"You're doing good," she said, and I caught the hint of amusement in her voice. She was focused on her makeup, the soft sound of her brushes against her skin somehow more intimate than it should've been.

"Why not just leave the curls?" I asked, lifting a lock of her hair between my fingers.

"Are you ready for me to lecture you about my hair struggles?" she shot back with a laugh, dabbing cotton against her skin.

I raised my eyebrows. "Try me."

"You know," she continued, her voice a little softer, "you're the first person to ever make me feel good about my curls. Everyone else tells me they look better straight."

"They must be blind," I said, a teasing grin spreading across my face. "I hate straight hair. I mean, you look great with it, but I love the curls. They're you." I couldn't help but run my fingers through the one that had escaped her otherwise straightened locks.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at her lips. "Too bad. I'm committed now."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling, the rhythm of us so easy, so . She went on about how her curls would get frizzy in the humidity, how the weather could turn them into a mess in seconds. I never realized how much work went into a woman's hair.

"Your curls are perfect," I said softly. "No matter what the weather does to them."

We finished up, and I waited for her in the living room. She emerged minutes later, wearing a white floral sundress, the kind of dress that just summer. She gave me a quick twirl, and I couldn't help but stare, speechless.

"I wasn't sure if I should go with jeans or a simple dress," she said, striking a pose like a model, a small smirk tugging at her mouth.

"Does it really matter? You look amazing," I said, not bothering to hide my admiration.

She smiled, squeezing my hand. "Shall we?"

"Lead the way," I said.

Before we left, though, she made a beeline for the kitchen, coming back with another bar of chocolate in hand.

"Really?" I laughed, holding the door open for her as she strolled out.

She rolled her eyes, but there was a soft affection in them that made my heart skip a beat. She was already on the phone with Chloe, speaking in rapid Spanish. I caught snippets, enough to know Chloe was asking her about me. Great.

"So, where are we going?" she asked when she hung up, sliding into the car beside me. I tried to keep the smile hidden.

"It's a surprise," I said, grinning.

She raised an eyebrow. "No rings today?"

"I thought you didn't like them," I teased, but then she placed my hand on her thigh, just a little too high up to be innocent.

"I never said that," she replied smoothly. "I them. They keep my hands busy."

I nearly choked, trying to control the grin threatening to spread across my face. "Stop, you're making me blush."

We drove past the sparkling coast, the blue water stretching for miles, and as we approached Reyes, I saw the recognition in her eyes. Her face lit up in a way I couldn't quite explain, but I knew that the place held a piece of her heart.

"Reyes," she whispered with a grin that spoke volumes. "How did you know about this place?"

"I had some help," I replied, smugness lacing my voice.

"Chloe?" she guessed.

I shrugged, keeping the mystery intact.

We stepped out of the car and walked hand-in-hand toward the ocean. As she looked around, I could see her visibly relax, her shoulders loosening from their usual tension.

"Used to come here with Chloe," she said, a nostalgic smile softening her features. "We'd lie on the grass, making up stories about the clouds."

"You two are cute," I remarked.

We strolled along the winding path, the late afternoon air warm and heavy with the scent of saltwater. The world seemed to soften around us—people scattered in the distance, a few couples lounging on picnic blankets, others wandering like us, lost in their own thoughts. The wind played with Belvina's hair, tossing strands across her face. I couldn't resist the urge to brush them back, my fingers lingering longer than necessary against her soft skin.

Her eyes met mine, a spark of something playful in them. "I think the sun's about to set," she said, her lips curling up into a smile. "I know the perfect spot to catch it."

"Lead the way," I replied, my voice dripping with that cocky confidence I knew she'd probably roll her eyes at, but I couldn't help it.

"Don't take too long," she added with a teasing edge, her eyes flashing with mischief. "I swear, if we miss it, I'm blaming you."

I chuckled. There was something about the way she acted like a kid trying to catch an ice cream truck that made my heart beat just a little faster. "Don't worry, I won't let you miss it."

She picked up the pace, and I followed, watching the sway of her hips in that sundress I could never seem to get enough of. We reached a small rise that overlooked the ocean, the sea stretching out below us, reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

She glanced around, trying to find a place to sit, and then sighed. "We should've brought a blanket."

I shrugged and pulled off my jacket. "We can make do." I spread it out on the ground, its fabric settling onto the dirt, creating a makeshift seat. "Improvise, right?"

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow, half amused, half impressed. "You didn't have to, but...thanks," she said, settling down onto the jacket, leaving just enough room for me beside her. I sat down next to her, and for a moment, we just watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of orange, pink, and purple.

There was something magical about the way the colors reflected off her face, the way her lips softened as she watched the sky. She stretched out, her head falling onto my lap, and I froze, my breath hitching at the feeling of her weight, her warmth.

"Much better," she murmured, flicking a glance up at me.

I smirked, running my fingers through her hair. "My face or the sunset?" I teased, loving how she always seemed to challenge me, push me to be a little bit bolder, a little bit more daring.

She bit back a smile, clearly fighting the urge to laugh, but eventually gave in, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're lucky," she muttered, her eyes dropping back to the horizon.

I let my fingers wander through her hair, drawing lazy circles against her bare skin, tracing patterns on her shoulder. My thoughts swirled, half focused on the sunset, but mostly on her—how soft her skin was, how her scent mixed with the salty air, how her presence filled the space between us like it was always meant to be this way.

As we strolled down the bridge later, the last traces of daylight faded, and Chloe's words about Belvina's photogenic nature turned out to be an understatement. I must've snapped a dozen pictures of her, each one more stunning than the last. It was like she had this quiet, effortless beauty that made every moment feel like a snapshot in time, a memory I wanted to keep forever.

By the time we stopped at a cozy restaurant across the bridge, the evening had deepened into a comfortable, intimate quiet. The fairy lights strung up around the patio twinkled like fireflies, casting a soft glow on her face as she picked at the chips, her eyes occasionally glancing up at me. I couldn't help the thrill of excitement that ran through me when I realized we'd ended up at a Mexican place—her favorite.

By 9 PM, we were back in the car, the night thick around us, the city lights fading into the rearview mirror. Belvina was swaying her head to the beat of the music playing on the radio, her fingers absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. I glanced over at her, my heart still racing from the evening.

"So, how did I do on our first date?" I asked, the hint of cockiness in my voice unmistakable.

She looked up, her lips curling into a playful smile. "I enjoyed myself," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something else, something that made my pulse quicken. "And if we're being honest? You just raised the bar for future dates."

A grin tugged at my lips. "Is that a yes for a second date?"

"Maybe," she said, her voice teasing, her smile just a little too knowing.

I let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be heartbroken. "Maybe? You're breaking my heart here, Belvina."

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with that same mischievous fire that made me lose track of time every time I looked at her. "You'll survive."

I took a breath, deciding to take my shot. "How about you spend the night at my place? You don't have work tomorrow."

She shot me a glance, a sly smile creeping up on her face. "I will have to leave early," she said, her voice a little softer now. "I'm spending the day with my family."

"Sure," I said with a smile, letting the words roll off my tongue, but the glint in my eyes didn't fade. "But you know what? I'm taking that as a 'yes' for next time."

When we arrived at my place, she headed straight for the shower, leaving me in the living room to catch up on a few emails. The silence in the house felt almost oppressive, like everything was holding its breath. I glanced at the clock more than once, willing the seconds to tick faster.

When I finally joined her upstairs, she was already wearing one of my shirts, the fabric hanging loose over her, her hair damp from the shower. She was on the phone with her mom, the rapid-fire Spanish flowing from her lips, but when she saw me, she smiled, a soft, content smile that made my heart skip.

I quickly undressed and hopped in the shower, trying to shake off the nervous energy that had built up in me. When I emerged, she was already curled up in bed, her body relaxed under the covers. I moved carefully, not wanting to disturb her, but the moment I slid in beside her, I noticed her eyes flicker open.

"What happened to clingy Adrian?" she whispered, her voice low and teasing. "I want him back."

A laugh rumbled in my chest, and before I could stop myself, I pulled her closer, letting her body melt against mine. "He never left," I whispered, my lips brushing against her hair, my arms tightening around her as if to prove it.

"Goodnight," she whispered and pressed a kiss to my neck.

"Stop being a tease, Vixen," I groaned.

"I was just saying goodnight," she said and kissed my neck again, I tightened my arm around her when she bit me and grazed her teeth against my skin. I felt like I was gonna explode if I didn't kiss her. I tilted my head to the side to look at her, she closed her eyes pretending to be asleep.

"It's not fair to make someone horny and leave them craving more," I said and she opened her eyes. An innocent smile appeared on her face.

"Can I tell you goodnight now?" I asked itching closer till my nose was pressed against hers. She nodded and parted her lips for me as I leaned down and took her lips in a hungry kiss. Her fingers knotted in my hair as our tongues found each other.

My hand moved slowly from her back to her ass and I grabbed the small perky flesh in my palm. She moaned as her fingers explored my bare torso. I let my fingers slip through her hair, savoring the soft, tangled texture, my pulse quickening with each delicate tug. It was one of those small moments that felt bigger than it was—her head nestled against my chest, her warmth, the quiet comfort. But then, the shrill sound of the doorbell sliced through the air, jarring and insistent. Neither of us moved at first, lost in the haze of the moment, but the doorbell rang again—louder this time, like a challenge.

I sighed, frustration curling in my chest. "Really?" I muttered, reluctantly pulling away from her.

Belvina arched an eyebrow, her lips still curled in that lazy, amused smile she always wore when I was on the verge of losing my cool. "Expecting someone?" she asked, voice light but curious.

"No." I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling a heavy breath. "Not at all."

I sat up, adjusting the waistband of my sweatpants, then rose and moved toward the closet, slipping on a shirt. I shot her a wry smile as I turned to leave the room. "I'll be right back."

Grumbling under my breath, I walked down the hallway toward the door. The interruption was irritating, but the annoyance flared into something worse as I reached for the handle. Whoever was at the door had zero sense of timing. When I opened it, my jaw locked in disbelief.

"Karen?" The name slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it, my voice sharp, laced with a mix of irritation and confusion.

"Hi, Adrian," she said, her smile wide and too innocent, as if she didn't know exactly how out of place she was.