Nicholas picked her up at seven.
Not late. Not early.
Exactly on time.
Ava heard the knock and felt her nerves spike instantly. She checked her reflection one last time—simple dress, soft makeup, nothing that screamed trying too hard. Her heart was already doing that for her.
She opened the door.
Nicholas stood there holding a single rose.
Not dramatic. Not flashy.
Just… intentional.
"You look incredible," he said quietly, like he meant it.
Ava swallowed. "You clean up well too."
He smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."
The drive off campus was calm, filled with music playing low and soft conversation—favorite movies, bad professors, things they never said when tension was loud.
He didn't rush her.
Didn't tease.
Didn't flirt like it was a game.
He listened.
The restaurant was small, warm, dimly lit. No crowds. No eyes. Just them.
They talked for hours.
About her childhood.
About his family.
About things they were scared to want.
At one point, Ava laughed mid-sentence and realized something that startled her—
She felt safe.
Nicholas watched her like he was memorizing the way her happiness looked.
When dinner ended, he didn't ask if she wanted to leave.
He asked, "Do you want to walk?"
They did.
Under quiet streetlights, hands brushing, steps slow.
When they stopped near his car, the moment stretched—thick, charged, waiting.
Nicholas turned to her.
"Ava," he said softly, "before this goes anywhere else… I need to know you're choosing this. Me."
She didn't hesitate.
"I am."
That was all it took.
He kissed her.
Not rushed. Not overwhelming.
Slow.
Like he was asking permission with every breath.
She kissed him back with the kind of honesty she'd been holding in for weeks.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.
"Come home with me," he whispered. "Only if you want to."
Her heart thundered.
She nodded.
"Yes."
His apartment was quiet, warm, lived-in. Nothing dramatic. Just him.
The moment the door closed behind them, the air shifted.
Not wild.
Intimate. Sacred.
They moved like they were afraid of breaking something fragile between them.
They were in the bedroom now. The soft light from the city filtering through the curtains cast long, muted shadows.
They kissed until their breaths were ragged, until the careful distance was gone.
Nicholas paused, his hands beneath the thin strap of her dress, his gaze intense.
He looked less like a lover and more like someone holding something infinitely valuable.
He brushed her hair back gently, his voice a low, rough rumble against her ear. "Tell me if you want me to stop, Ava. Right now. Just say the word."
She felt the tremor run through her body—not of fear, but of profound, intoxicating commitment. Her voice was a barely audible tremor.
"No," she whispered, leaning into his touch, her fingers curling tight against the warm cotton of his shirt.
"Please, don't stop."
That was the true surrender.
The dress slipped softly to the floor.
Hands explored carefully.
Reverently.
They moved toward the bed, the final barrier broken by her choice, not his hunger.
When he followed her down, it wasn't a pursuit.
It was an acceptance.
It was something softer.
Something dangerous.
Later, when they lay together in the quiet, Ava rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.
Nicholas traced slow lines along her arm, absent, thoughtful.
"You okay?" he asked.
She smiled softly. "More than okay."
Silence wrapped around them—comfortable, heavy with meaning.
Nicholas stared at the ceiling, jaw tight just for a second.
Ava didn't notice.
Didn't see the guilt flicker.
Didn't know what he was hiding.
She only knew the way he pulled her closer, like letting go wasn't an option anymore.
Outside, the city slept.
Inside, promises were being made—unspoken, fragile, real.
And somewhere between his arms and her trust…
A truth waited.
One that would shatter everything.