I let out a breath that trembled on the way out and smoothed my hands over my sweater — soft cream cashmere that fell just below my hips, paired with dark jeans and ankle boots. Understated, simple, but still me. Still Brittany.
And maybe, just maybe, the version of me that Ace had never really seen before.
The knock came at exactly 7:00.
My fingers fumbled with the doorknob, heart hammering as I opened it — and there he was.
Ace stood on the porch, hands shoved in his pockets, dark jeans, a black leather jacket over a slate-gray henley, hair still damp from a shower, messy and gorgeous. His mouth tugged into the smallest of smiles as his eyes flicked over me, lingering just a little too long.
“Hey,” he murmured, voice rough.
“Hey,” I breathed back, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
For a second we just stood there, the air thick between us, like neither of us quite knew how to step into this new, fragile space we were in.
Finally, Ace cleared his throat, pulling a hand from his pocket to reveal a single white daisy, a little crushed, the stem slightly bent.
“It’s not fancy,” he muttered, looking sheepish in a way I’d never seen on him before. “But… it reminded me of you.”
My chest squeezed so hard it hurt.
I reached out, brushing my fingers against his as I took the flower. “It’s perfect,” I whispered. And somehow, it really was.
---
We didn’t go to some glamorous rooftop restaurant or a glittering Hollywood event.
Ace drove us down to Malibu, the old Mustang rumbling under us as the night swallowed the city lights, his hand resting casually on the gearshift between us, fingers brushing mine every so often, sending tiny jolts through my veins.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked, trying to sound breezy, but the nerves were buzzing under my skin.
His lips curved into a smirk, eyes flicking to me for half a second before returning to the road. “Nope.”
I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head, but I didn’t press. Part of me liked not knowing — liked surrendering to something unpredictable for once.
When we pulled off onto a quiet side road, the ocean spread out before us like an endless stretch of black silk, waves crashing in the distance under the silver wash of the moon.
Ace parked near a little cliffside overlook, cutting the engine and stepping out. He rounded the car, opening my door before I could even reach for the handle.
I slid out, the cool sea air kissing my skin, salt and wind tangling in my hair.
“Come on,” he murmured, reaching for my hand.
My fingers trembled slightly as they slipped into his, and the way his grip tightened, warm and solid, made my knees go weak.
We walked down a narrow trail, his thumb brushing circles over the back of my hand as we moved in silence, the ocean roaring softly beside us.
When we reached a small patch of sand tucked between two rocks, Ace spread out an old blanket, pulling a thermos and two mugs from the backpack slung over his shoulder.
“I figured champagne might be too much,” he murmured, pouring steaming liquid into the mugs, “so… hot chocolate.”
I blinked, laughter bubbling up in my throat. “Are you… are you trying to romance me, Ace?”
He shot me a crooked grin, passing me a mug. “Maybe.”
I curled up on the blanket, tucking my legs under me as I sipped. The sweetness of the cocoa warmed my chest, but it was the quiet — the rare, unguarded peace of this moment — that truly melted something inside me.
Ace sat beside me, legs stretched out, one arm slung casually across his bent knee.
