LINES CROSSED

Chapter 5

Amelia didn’t sleep much that night.

She lay still, tangled in her sheets, Ethan’s words echoing in her mind. His touch lingered on her skin long after they’d parted. That kiss hadn’t been casual. It had been deliberate. Deep. Like the kind of kiss that doesn’t just spark something — it awakens it.

She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted more.

By morning, she was restless. Her phone buzzed softly beside her — a message from Ethan.

*“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”*

She read it twice. Smiled. But she didn’t reply yet.

Instead, she went about her day trying to focus on anything else — laundry, groceries, a short video call with Sarah that didn’t help much since Sarah instantly noticed her distraction.

“You’ve got that dreamy, been-kissed-by-a-dangerous-man look,” Sarah teased. “You better spill.”

Amelia only laughed. But she didn’t spill. Not yet.

That evening, a knock came at her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, which meant she knew exactly who it was. Ethan stood there in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, holding a bottle of wine and a small bouquet of wildflowers.

“I don’t know if this is cheesy or charming,” he said with a half-smile. “But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either.”

Amelia hesitated for a second — then stepped aside to let him in.

They sat in the living room, the space warm and quiet. The wine loosened her tension, but it was the way Ethan listened when she spoke — really listened — that made her heart ache.

He asked about her favorite books, the music she grew up loving, what made her cry during movies. She told him things she hadn’t shared with anyone in years. Not even Ryan.

“Do you know what I admire about you?” Ethan asked suddenly, fingers gently grazing hers on the couch.

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Besides my undying love for old jazz and bad rom-coms?”

He chuckled. “You don’t perform. You’re just… real. Honest. You don’t try to hide your softness.”

Her breath caught. “Most people think it’s weakness.”

“It’s strength,” he said simply.

Their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them — fragile, but magnetic.

“Ethan…” she began, heart pounding.

He leaned in closer, voice low. “I want to kiss you again. If you want that too.”

She nodded. He moved gently — giving her time to pull away if she changed her mind. But she didn’t.

Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that didn’t rush to the end, but savored every second. He cradled the back of her neck, pulling her in like he was trying to memorize her. The kiss deepened, but never lost its tenderness.

When they finally pulled apart, Amelia rested her forehead against his.

“I didn’t expect you,” she whispered.

“I didn’t expect *you,*” he replied, brushing a thumb over her cheek.

The moment stretched. No urgency. Just warmth.

They didn’t sleep together that night, but he stayed. Not in her bed, but on the couch. Close, but respectful. Yet his presence filled the apartment in a comforting way, as if he belonged.

And in the morning, she found him already making coffee, her favorite mug sitting on the counter.

“Stay,” she said before thinking.

He smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

For a few days, life slowed. They took walks through the park, hands brushing, laughter rising between them. He showed her the sketches he’d never shared with anyone — drawings filled with emotion and pain and beauty.

In those moments, she saw pieces of the man no one else knew. The man who wanted to be better, even if his past made it difficult. Sometimes, they said nothing at all. Just sat side by side, her legs tucked beneath her, his hand resting gently on her thigh. It was peaceful. Comfortable. The silence between them spoke more than any words.

One rainy afternoon, they curled up on the couch, a soft playlist playing in the background. The light from a nearby lamp cast a golden glow over Ethan’s face as he looked at her — not with hunger, but with something deeper. Admiration. Longing.

Amelia rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath.

“Do you ever feel like the world gets too loud?” she asked quietly.

“All the time,” he replied. “But when I’m with you, it’s like someone hit pause.”

She smiled. “That’s exactly how it feels.”

He turned toward her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to memorize it. “You do something to me, Amelia. Something I can’t explain.”

“Then don’t explain,” she whispered.

He leaned in again, slower this time. Their lips met — and this kiss was different. Softer. Like a question asked and answered in the same breath. Her hands found his chest, feeling the warmth of him, the strength he rarely let anyone see. They didn’t speak for a long time after. Just held each other, fingertips tracing lazy paths across skin and fabric, as if words might shatter the spell.

Eventually, she looked up at him. “What are we doing, Ethan?”

He didn’t flinch. “Falling,” he said.

She swallowed hard. “And if it hurts?”

“I’d still choose it,” he said.

Her heart skipped. Because somehow, even though everything felt uncertain… being with him felt real. Safe. Wanted.

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And in that moment, she allowed herself to believe — even just for now — that love could bloom in the most unexpected places, even between the ruins of her past.

Maybe it wouldn’t last. Maybe the truth would hurt.

But for now, wrapped in Ethan’s arms, she chose the warmth.

She chose the risk.

She chose him and everything about him.