It was nearly noon when Hriva finally convinced Jake to let her borrow a hoodie and escape his apartment-barefoot and laughing-just to stand on the little balcony attached to his living room.
The breeze was crisp, playful, tugging at the strands of her sleep-tousled hair. Jake followed a second later, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"You know," he murmured against her skin, "you look way too good in my clothes. It's going to be a problem."
"I told you," she teased, leaning back into his chest, "borrowed clothes are part of the girlfriend tax."
Jake laughed, soft and deep in her ear. "Remind me to keep paying it forever."
There it was again. That word. Forever.
He said it so casually. Like it didn't scare him at all.
And strangely, it didn't scare her either.
It just made her heart kick a little harder.
A moment later, Jake spoke again. "What if we just… disappeared today?"
She turned in his arms, brow raised. "Disappeared?"
He nodded, eyes gleaming. "I mean it. No phones. No notifications. Just us. A road trip. Somewhere with trees. Or cliffs. Or ocean. I'll let you pick."
Hriva smirked. "You really want to kidnap me?"
Jake leaned in, brushing his nose against hers. "I want to keep you."
And somehow, that was a thousand times more dangerous.
By two o'clock, they were in his truck, windows down, wind in her hair, music low and warm in the background. Jake's hand never left her thigh. Not even when he shifted gears.
He drove them out of the city, through winding roads that snaked along forests still clinging to the last of autumn's fire. Hriva had her bare feet propped up on the dashboard, one of Jake's hoodies hanging loosely around her thighs.
She'd never felt more herself.
Or more wanted.
"You're quiet," Jake said after a while, glancing at her.
"I'm thinking," she said, eyes on the road ahead.
"About?"
She looked at him. "About how easy this feels."
Jake reached over, lacing their fingers together. "That's not an accident."
"What do you mean?"
"I've never worked so hard to not mess something up," he admitted, lips quirking. "Every day with you, I feel like I'm walking a tightrope. Not because I'm scared, but because what we've got? It matters too much."
Hriva blinked, breath caught somewhere in her throat.
He wasn't just saying it.
He meant it.
Every word.
She squeezed his hand, her voice suddenly smaller. "You don't have to work that hard, you know."
He looked at her again. "Why?"
"Because I'm already falling."
The truck fell into a perfect silence-just the hum of tires, the soft pulse of music, and the slow-motion kind of heartbeat that comes when two people realize they've crossed a line that can't be uncrossed.
And neither of them wanted to go back.
They ended up at a cliffside lookout Jake used to visit during college. It was wild and quiet, the ocean stretching endlessly below, wind pulling at their clothes and hair.
Hriva stood near the edge, arms spread like she could fly.
Jake just watched her.
"I've never brought anyone here," he said.
She turned, wind-tousled and smiling. "Why not?"
"Because this place is mine," he said. "But now it's ours."
Her smile faded-just a little. Replaced by something quieter. Something deeper.
She walked back toward him, fingers finding the hem of his shirt. "You keep saying things like that."
Jake looked down at her. "Like what?"
"Things that make me think you mean this more than you should."
"I do," he said simply. "And maybe you should too."
He kissed her then.
Out there on that cliff, with the sky wide and open behind them, and the ocean roaring below. The kind of kiss that bent time. The kind that made everything else go quiet.
It wasn't lust.
It wasn't even about desire.
It was that terrifying, tender need-to hold someone before they slipped through your fingers.
And for Hriva, it hit like lightning:She was already his.And she didn't even want to fight it.
When they finally pulled apart, wind swirling between them, she whispered, "This doesn't feel like the beginning of something."
Jake tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his eyes locked on hers.
"That's because it's already everything."