Then he says, “is it weird that I think you’re even more beautiful like this?”
My breath catches. “Like this?”
He nods, his voice a little rough around the edges. “Yeah. I like seeing you unfiltered. It suits you.”
I laugh, both flattered and flustered. “That’s definitelythe nicest way anyone’s ever described bedhead and bad breath.”
He grins. “I mean it.”
I blink. “Gray…”
He runs a hand through his hair, shoulders tense. His voice rushes out in pieces.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve waited. This was probably too much. I just—I woke up and couldn’t stop thinking about last night. Then I overthought everything, and by the time I drove over here I was convincing myself this was stupid, that you’d think I was…”
“Gray.” I step closer, gentle but firm. “Breathe.”
His chest rises like he’s holding it all in, so I reach for his wrist and press my thumb lightly against the inside, the way you’d ground someone. “In,” I whisper. “With me.”
He inhales shakily. His eyes finally meet mine.
“And out.”
We do it again. Once. Twice. Until some of the storm in him quiets.
“That’s better,” I say softly, not letting go. “Now show me what you’ve been hiding.”
His jaw flexes, but the panic loosens enough for a small smile. Slowly, he brings his hand forward. The bouquet is messy, beautiful—pink blooms wrapped in brown paper. My heart stumbles.
And then I see the note taped across the front, his handwriting uneven like he scribbled it before he could lose his nerve.
Ivy, I dare you to be my girlfriend.
My eyes fly to his, and for a second, all I can think is how this all started with a dare. A silly moment, a heldhand, a stranger. And now here he is, daring me again—but this time, to be his.
“I know,” he says quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “We technically made it official over the phone last night, but I was planning on asking you this way in a few days. I had it all in my head—flowers, the right moment, maybe even a cheesy line or two. But then I woke up and couldn’t wait. So…here I am. Making it in-person official. That is, if you still want to say yes.”
I don’t even try to hold back the smile that takes over my face. “I will accept your dare.”
His shoulders drop like he’s been carrying weight all morning, relief softening every line of him. A grin tugs slow and steady at his mouth.
When he opens his mouth like he’s about to tumble into another ramble, I press my hand to his chest, right over the wild rhythm beneath.
“Easy, heartbeat,” I whisper. “You’re spiraling again, and it’s adorable, but unnecessary.”
His breath evens, one beat, then another, until I can feel the change under my palm—the frantic race slowing into something calmer, steadier. His eyes meet mine, and this time there’s no panic, just warmth flickering there.
“That’s better,” I say softly, giving him the faintest smile.
“Yeah,” he exhales, voice quieter now. “That’s better.”
I step back just enough to gesture toward the kitchen. “So…do you want some coffee?”
“Only if I get to sit across from you and memorize every detail of how you look in that sweatshirt,” he says, calmer now but no less intense. His grin curves, and he leans just a little closer. “Because honestly, it might’ve ruined me for anything else.”
Gray stands by the door a few hours later, keys in one hand, his other resting on the doorknob like he’s unsure whether to turn it. His body tilts toward me, like he’s half-ready to go, half-hoping I’ll stop him.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
