I thought maybe the feeling would fade by morning. That sleep would wash him out of my system, like a dream too delicate to hold. But instead, I woke up with the ghost of his voice still in my ear.
"Starting to think fate has a plan for us."
I lay there longer than I should have, watching sunlight crawl across the ceiling. I tried to talk myself down remind myself of all the ways this could go wrong. But then Clara texted.
"He asked about you alot"
That should've made me feel wanted. Instead, it made something twist in my stomach not quite fear, not quite hope. Just the strange weight of being seen after so long in the dark.
And then came the call.
Not a text. Not a message.
His actual voice.
"Hey," he said, like we'd known each other forever. "Are you free tonight?"
I told him yes before I could overthink it. Before the part of me that still believes I'm too broken to be chosen could claw its way to the surface.
Now I'm standing in front of my closet, heart pounding, hands trembling over hangers that suddenly feel like costumes. I don't know how to dress for a night that might change everything. I don't know how to silence the voice that says I don't belong in his world.
But I choose the navy dress the one Clara said brings out my eyes. I put on lipstick I haven't worn in months. I try to tame the storm in my chest.
When I step outside, the city feels different. Like it's holding its breath for me.
Harrison's waiting just outside the café we agreed on, looking somehow both effortless and out of place like he belongs in a painting, not real life. He smiles when he sees me. That same calm confidence, like the world could crumble around him and he'd still stand steady.
"You look…" He pauses. "Perfect."
I almost laugh. But I don't want to ruin the moment. So I say, "You're not so bad yourself."
Dinner is easy too easy. We talk about little things: childhood dreams, embarrassing moments, our favorite kinds of rain. But underneath it all is something heavier. Unspoken. Like we're both circling a truth we're not ready to name.
He doesn't push. He just listens. And for the first time in a long time, I don't feel like I have to prove anything. I can just be.
Later, we end up on a rooftop his idea. He says he comes here when the world feels too loud. We sit in silence for a while, watching the city glow beneath us.
"Do you ever feel like you're on the outside of everything?" I ask.
He looks at me for a long time before answering. "All the time. Until last night."
I don't know what to say to that. So I just breathe it in. The cold air. The warmth of him beside me. The possibility of something new.
Maybe he's lightning. Maybe he's a storm.
But tonight, he's here.
And for the first time, I'm not afraid of what comes next.