The First Time In Years

(MAKAIRA'S POV)

I didn't sleep that night.

Not a single wink.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Slade's face. The way he'd looked at me when he said those words. You're mine. The way his voice had cracked just slightly, like he was admitting something that scared him.

I tossed and turned, clutching the teddy bear to my chest like it was some kind of anchor.

Dream of me?

What had possessed me to say that? I'd typed it before I could stop myself, my fingers moving on their own accord. And then I'd spent the next hour staring at my phone, waiting for a reply that never came.

He said he'd dream of me.

At least, I thought he did. He hadn't actually typed it. But he hadn't denied it either.

I groaned, pressing my face into my pillow.

This was insane. I barely knew him. He'd been cold and distant and sometimes downright mean. But then there were moments—fleeting, fragile moments—where I caught a glimpse of something else. Something tender. Something raw.

And it made me want to know more.

---

The next morning, I looked like death.

Dark circles under my eyes. Hair that refused to cooperate. A general air of exhaustion that no amount of concealer could fix.

"Rough night?" Aunt Shanice asked as I shuffled into the kitchen.

I grunted in response, reaching for the coffee pot.

She chuckled, sliding a plate of pancakes toward me. "You know, when I was your age, I had nights like that too. Usually involving a boy."

I nearly choked on my coffee.

"Aunt Shanice!"

"What? I'm just saying." She shrugged innocently, but her eyes were dancing with mischief. "The Horton boy seems nice. A bit intense, but nice."

"Intense is one word for it," I muttered.

She sat down across from me, her expression softening. "Kaira, sweetheart. I know we haven't talked much about... everything. Your parents, the move, all of it. But I want you to know that you can tell me anything. About Slade, about school, about whatever's going on in that pretty head of yours."

I stared at my pancakes, suddenly emotional.

It had been so long since I'd had someone to talk to. Someone who actually cared.

"He said something to me," I admitted quietly. "In the car. He said I was his."

Aunt Shanice's eyebrows shot up. "His? As in—"

"I don't know what he meant. He took it back right after. Said to forget it." I stabbed at my pancake with my fork. "But I can't forget it. Every time I try, I just... I keep thinking about the way he said it."

"And how did he say it?"

"Like it was the most terrifying thing in the world."

Aunt Shanice was quiet for a moment. Then she reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

"Some boys don't know how to handle their feelings, Kaira. They've been taught that vulnerability is weakness. So when they feel something real, something big, they panic." She smiled gently. "Your father was exactly the same way when I met him."

I looked up sharply. "My dad?"

"Your father was all stoic silences and brooding looks. He drove your mother crazy for months before he finally admitted he liked her." Aunt Shanice laughed softly. "Turns out, he was just scared of getting hurt."

Something warm bloomed in my chest.

"You think Slade is scared?"

"I think," she said carefully, "that boy looks at you like you're the sun and he's been living in the dark his whole life. But whether he's ready to admit that? That's up to him."

I nodded slowly, processing her words.

---

My phone buzzed on the table, and I nearly knocked over my coffee grabbing for it.

Slade: Meet me at the park on Elm Street. 11am.

I stared at the message, my heart racing.

Me: Why?

Slade: Because I promised I'd talk to you. And I keep my promises.

Me: Okay. I'll be there.

Slade: Don't be late.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.

Aunt Shanice was watching me with knowing eyes. "Slade?"

"Yeah."

"Go get dressed, then. You've got a boy to meet."

---

The park on Elm Street was small and quiet, tucked away from the main roads. I spotted Slade immediately, sitting on a bench near the pond, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

He looked nervous.

Actually, genuinely nervous.

I'd never seen him like this before. He was always so composed, so controlled. But today, his knee was bouncing, and he kept running his hand through his hair.

I walked up to him slowly, my heart pounding.

"You came," he said, standing up.

"I said I would."

Silence stretched between us. Awkward. Charged.

"Look, about last night—" we both started at the same time.

I laughed. He almost smiled.

"You first," I offered.

Slade took a breath, his eyes meeting mine. "I shouldn't have said what I said. It was inappropriate, and I—"

"Stop."

He blinked. "What?"

I stepped closer to him, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

"If you're about to apologize for saying you wanted me, don't." I held his gaze, refusing to look away. "I've spent my whole life being overlooked. Being invisible. And then you come along, and you see me. Actually see me. And I don't want you to take that back."

Slade stared at me like I'd just spoken another language.

"Makaira—"

"I'm not finished." I took another step forward. "I don't know what this is between us. I don't know if it's real or if I'm imagining things. But I know that when you looked at me last night, I felt something I've never felt before. And I'm not ready to let that go."

His chest rose and fell rapidly. His hands were clenched at his sides.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he said hoarsely. "No idea how hard I've been trying to stay away from you."

"Then stop trying."

The words hung in the air between us.

Slade moved so fast I barely registered it. One second he was standing a foot away, the next his hands were cupping my face, his forehead pressed against mine.

"I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you," he whispered. "Five years ago. I didn't even know your name, and I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Five years?" I breathed. "But you were so mean to me—"

"Because I didn't know what else to do." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I was terrified, Makaira. You made me feel things I didn't want to feel. And the more I pushed you away, the more I wanted to pull you closer."

I reached up, my fingers brushing against his jaw. He flinched slightly, then leaned into my touch.

"Slade..."

"I know this is fast. I know I don't deserve you. But I can't pretend anymore." His eyes searched mine, vulnerable and raw. "Tell me you feel this too. Tell me I'm not crazy."

I didn't answer with words.

I closed the distance between us and kissed him.

---

It was gentle at first. Tender. Like he was afraid I might break. But then his hands slid into my hair, and the kiss deepened, and suddenly there was nothing gentle about it at all.

He kissed me like I was oxygen and he'd been drowning.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. His forehead pressed against mine again, his eyes still closed.

"Makaira," he breathed. "My Makaira."

I smiled against his lips. "Yours?"

"Always." He pulled back just enough to look at me, and the intensity in his gaze made my knees weak. "If you'll have me."

"I think I already do."

A real smile crossed his face then. A genuine, unguarded smile that transformed his entire face. He looked younger. Lighter.

"Good," he said. "Because I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."

---

We spent the rest of the day at the park.

Slade told me about his father, about the pressure to take over the company, about the loneliness he'd felt growing up in a house that was more mansion than home.

I told him about my parents, about the accident, about the guilt I still carried even though I knew it wasn't my fault.

We talked for hours. And in between the words, there were more kisses. Soft ones. Lingering ones. Ones that promised something deeper.

"You know," I said as the sun started to set, "you're not as scary as you pretend to be."

Slade snorted, pulling me closer on the bench. "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Your secret's safe with me."

He kissed the top of my head. "I know it is."

We sat in comfortable silence, watching the sky turn shades of orange and pink. His arm was wrapped around my shoulder, my head resting against his chest.

"So," I said slowly. "What happens now?"

"Now?" He tilted my chin up, meeting my eyes. "Now I take you on proper dates. Real ones. And I show you exactly how much you mean to me."

"That sounds nice."

"It will be." His thumb traced my lower lip. "But I'm warning you now, Makaira. Once I start, I'm not going to stop. I want all of you. Every part. Every moment. Every memory."

I shivered at the intensity in his voice.

"What if I want that too?"

His eyes darkened. "Then you better be ready."

"Ready for what?"

Slade leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear.

"Ready for everything."

---

(SLADE'S POV)

I walked her home that evening, my hand intertwined with hers.

Mrs. Shanice was waiting at the door, and I braced myself for the inevitable interrogation. But she just smiled warmly, her eyes moving between us with clear approval.

"Same time tomorrow?" I asked Makaira softly.

"Same time tomorrow," she agreed.

I kissed her forehead, because I wasn't sure I could handle kissing her lips without losing control. "Goodnight, Makaira."

"Goodnight, Slade."

I waited until she was safely inside before I turned to leave.

But I didn't go home.

Instead, I sat in my car outside her house for an hour, just staring at her window. Watching the light flicker on and off as she got ready for bed.

A small part of me felt like a stalker. A larger part of me didn't care.

Because for the first time in my life, I had something worth watching.

Something worth fighting for.

And I wasn't going to let it go.

Not for anything.

---

My phone buzzed as I finally pulled away from the curb.

Makaira: You're still outside, aren't you?

I smirked.

Me: How did you know?

Makaira: I can feel you. 😉

Makaira: Go home, Slade. I'll still be here tomorrow.

Me: Promise?

Makaira: Promise. ❤️

I smiled all the way home.

And for the first time in years, I actually looked forward to tomorrow.