Time paused. The earth held its breath. He turned to me fully, the starlight etching the soft edges of his face, and with one hand, he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing the place where fear used to live.
"June," he breathed, like my name had been waiting on the edge of his tongue for years. "I've been holding this in... holding you in my heart, quietly, for longer than I ever dared admit."
Then he kissed me—slowly, reverently—not like someone chasing a spark, but like someone who had studied every star in the sky... and finally stepped into the one that felt like home.
When we broke apart, breathless and aching, he rested his forehead against mine.
"Let's dance under the stars," he whispered, his voice a vow wrapped in starlight,
I blinked. "You want to dance?"
"I know, I know—me, the guy who almost dislocated a hip trying to learn a box step. But..." he gave a sheepish shrug, "I'm willing to risk mild public embarrassment if it means holding you a little longer."
I laughed softly. "You're ridiculous."
"Romantically ridiculous," he corrected. "Also, mildly uncoordinated. But I brought backup."
He pulled out his phone, scrolled a bit, then hit play.
"Moon River"floated through the air, soft and slow, that timeless ache woven into every note. The kind of song that didn't ask you to be perfect—only honest.
He offered his hand. "Shall we?"
I took it, my palm slipping into his like it belonged there. And just like that, we were swaying—no choreography, no steps, just movement born from feeling. From the pull of something quiet and sure.
Liam was warm and solid against me, and even when he stumbled slightly, he didn't let go.
"See?" he whispered, lips near my temple. "No injuries yet. Progress."
I smiled against his shoulder. "You're doing great."
He pulled me just a little closer, his arms wrapping fully around me now, holding me like he meant it.
"June," he murmured, "I don't know where this goes. I just know I want to go there with you. Even if I trip over my own feet on the way."
I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek to his chest, where I could hear his heartbeat—steady, sincere.
The last notes ofMoon Riverfaded into the hush of the desert, but neither of us moved to break the quiet. Our hands remained laced, our bodies still swaying slightly, as if the stars themselves hadn't given us permission to stop yet.
Liam exhaled, soft and steady. Then he pulled back just enough to look at me, the playfulness in his eyes now shaded with something gentler—more vulnerable.
"There's something else I wanted to ask you," he said,"I was wondering if you'd come with me. To the gala," he said, a little breathless now. "Be my date. Be the person I look for in the crowd when I start panicking about footwork and forget everything I've practiced."
I felt my chest swell, my heart stammering in a rhythm he somehow always found a way to match.
"I want you there," he added softly. "Not just beside me.Withme."
I smiled, leaning in just enough for our foreheads to touch.
"You had me at panicking footwork."
He laughed—a sound that cracked open something bright between us. "Thank God. I was prepared to launch into a monologue about orbital synchronicity and emotional gravity."
"You still might."
"True. I'm not above using star metaphors to win affection."
I slipped my hand into his again. "You don't need metaphors, Liam. You just need to show up."
