8. a kiss

Hamzah's hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his pace unhurried, like he wasn't in a rush to get anywhere. I wasn't either. There was something soothing about the quiet between us, but it also felt heavier than usual, like we were both teetering on the edge of saying something we weren't ready to admit.

"You cold?" he asked suddenly, glancing over at me. I shook my head, though I was clutching my jacket tightly around myself. "I'm fine. You?""Nah," he said, though his breath clouded the air. He flashed me a grin, one of those lazy, crooked smiles that always made my chest tighten. "I'm built for this."I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling back. "You're not as tough as you think, Hamzah.""Harsh," he said, mock-offended. "You wound me, Cora."

We fell into silence again, but this time, it felt softer, more comfortable. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, the streetlights casting shadows across his face. He looked peaceful, but there was something else there, too-a tension in the way his shoulders were set, the way his eyes stayed focused on the ground ahead of us.

When we reached the apartment building, Hamzah held the door open for me, his hand brushing mine as I stepped inside. The touch was fleeting, accidental, but it sent a jolt through me all the same. I didn't look at him as we made our way up the stairs, my thoughts racing faster than my feet.

The apartment was dark and quiet when we stepped inside, the kind of stillness that only came late at night. I kicked off my shoes by the door, glancing at Hamzah as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch. He didn't say anything, but his movements were slower than usual, deliberate, like he was stalling for time.

"Want some water?" he asked, heading toward the kitchen. "Sure," I said, following him before I could overthink it.

He handed me a glass, his fingers brushing mine for the second time that night. I took a sip, trying to focus on the coolness of the water instead of the warmth of his touch, but it was no use. The tension between us was suffocating, an invisible string pulling us closer and closer together.

"Tonight was fun," I said finally, my voice breaking the silence. "Yeah," he said, leaning back against the counter. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. The air between us crackled, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place.

"Cora..." he started, his voice low and hesitant, like he wasn't sure if he should say what he was about to say. I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the glass in my hand. "Yeah?"

But he didn't finish. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes searching mine like he was looking for permission-or maybe courage. I didn't move. I couldn't.

And then, before I could process what was happening, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. But as soon as I responded, as soon as I leaned into him, it deepened. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, and the glass slipped from my fingers, forgotten as I tangled my hands in his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping me grounded.

It was intoxicating, the way he kissed me-slow and deliberate, like he had been waiting for this moment as long as I had. The world outside disappeared, and for those few stolen seconds, there was nothing but him and me and the electric connection that had been building between us for weeks.

But then reality came crashing back. I pulled away, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I stared up at him. His face was flushed, his eyes dark and searching, and I could see the same mix of emotions swirling in him that I felt in myself-want, fear, confusion.

"I-" I started, but the words caught in my throat. "Cora," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. Instead, he stepped back, giving me space, his hands falling to his sides. "We should... I should get to bed," I said quickly, my voice trembling. He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yeah. Goodnight." "Goodnight," I murmured, slipping past him and retreating to my room before I could lose my nerve.

I closed the door behind me, leaning against it as I tried to catch my breath. My lips still tingled from his kiss, my mind racing with everything that had just happened. I wanted to go back, to kiss him again, to figure out what this meant. But I was also terrified-of what it could change, of what it might ruin.

I crawled into bed, staring up at the ceiling as the memory of his touch played over and over in my mind. Sleep didn't come easily, and when it did, it was filled with dreams of him-of us-and the impossible question of what came next.