Chapter 14: No Turning Back

Zay’s POV

I don’t know what I expected after asking her out. A hard no, maybe. A slap. Or worse—indifference. But what I got was worse in its own way: a maybe. That little glimmer of possibility she tossed over her shoulder like it meant nothing—like it hadn’t just detonated something inside me.

“I’ll think about it,” she’d said.

Six words. That’s all. But I obsessed over every syllable like they were carved into stone tablets straight from God.

By the time Saturday rolled around, I was a wreck. My boys hit me up for a party, but I told them I had plans—which was a lie. The only plan I had was pacing my dorm, half-dressed, half-crazy, waiting for a text from a girl who might not even show up.

And then at 5:32 p.m., it came.

Vee: “Meet me outside the theater at 6. I’m picking the movie. No funny business.”

I stared at the screen for a full minute, then grinned like a fool. I don’t even remember throwing on my hoodie or shoving my wallet into my back pocket. I just know I was out the door so fast, I forgot my damn keys.

The theater was only a few blocks from campus. I made it there early—too early—and stood out front trying not to look like some lovesick idiot. When I saw her walking up, my breath caught.

She wore this soft gray sweater and black jeans, her curls pulled up into a messy bun, no makeup, just herself. And somehow she still looked like she could destroy me with a glance.

“You’re early,” she said, eyeing me cautiously.

I shrugged. “Didn’t want to risk missing you.”

She handed me a ticket. “Rom-com. No complaints.”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Your rules. I’m just here for the popcorn and your company.”

She gave me a sideways glance, and for the first time in a long time, I saw it—the smallest crack in her armor. A flicker of amusement, maybe even trust.

We sat in the back row. Not because I planned it that way—okay, maybe I did—but I kept my hands in my lap the whole time. She was tense at first, arms crossed, spine straight, like she was waiting for me to pull something. But I didn’t. I watched the movie. Laughed when she did. And when her hand brushed against mine on the shared armrest, I didn’t grab it.

I let it stay.

That was enough.

After the movie, we stepped into the cool evening air, the sky painted deep purple and streaked with gold. She turned to me, expression unreadable.

“You were surprisingly well-behaved,” she said.

I smiled. “That’s what happens when you terrify me.”

“I terrify you?” She laughed, and God, it was the most beautiful sound I’d heard all week.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Because I care too much. And I know I don’t deserve to.”

She didn’t answer at first. Just looked at me like she was peeling back every layer I’d ever tried to hide behind. And I let her. Because I wanted her to see everything. The guilt, the need, the regret. The way I’d built my whole personality around keeping her at a distance just so I wouldn’t have to admit that I loved her even back then.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she said quietly.

“I’ve never meant anything more,” I replied.

Silence fell between us. The air buzzed with it. A line was there—thin, fraying—and I could feel us both standing on the edge.

“If you hurt me again, Zay,” she said, voice like steel wrapped in velvet, “I swear to God—”

“I won’t,” I cut in. “Even if it kills me, I won’t.”

And I meant it.

Because I knew, in that moment, there was no turning back.