Alex's POV.
The first thing you need to know is this: I don't like being told no. And Felicity Paddington? She tells me "no" like it's her favorite word. Which, of course, only makes me want her more.
It had been a week since that night—her lips, that kiss, the taste of her still haunting me. And every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel the way she trembled in my arms. Like she wanted it as badly as I did. But the moment I tried to reach for more, she pulled back, shy, unsure, guarded.
And then Christopher. Perfect Christopher, hovered in the shadows, waiting his turn. Yeah. Not if I had anything to do with it.
Mia slinked into my orbit like smoke, the kind that seeps into your lungs before you realize you're choking.
"You're thinking about her again." She leaned against the edge of my desk, twirling a strand of her dark hair, voice laced with mischief.
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
"Alex," she purred, lowering her lashes. "You want her to choose you, don't you?"
My jaw flexed. "She will."
"Not if you keep playing it safe." Her lips curled. "Felicity isn't the type you can just flirt with and win. She needs…persuasion. Memories that can't be undone."
I narrowed my eyes. "And you'd know how?"
Mia smirked. "I've studied her. She hates boredom. You keep her laughing, you keep her on her toes—she won't even notice time passing. Take her places. Push her limits. Make her forget Chris even exists."
I hated that she was making sense. And I hated even more that I was listening.
Day Seven of the two-week dating challenge, I decided to up my game.
I texted her at dawn that I had a surprise she wouldn't regret. Pack your sneakers. I'm stealing you today.
By the time we reached the picnic spot, the horizon was already bleeding gold, the sun was climbing slow and steady like it had all the time in the world, spilling gold across the blanket as if the sky itself had decided to bless us. Felicity sat cross-legged on the blanket, her hair catching fire in the light, her laughter still echoing from the ride over.
The world felt still. The morning felt suspended. Just me, her, and the hush of leaves whispering in the breeze. Gosh, she was dangerous. Not because she tried to be, but because she didn't.
She had screamed so loud earlier the birds probably filed a noise complaint, but the way her laughter had carried through the trees made every single risk worth it. When her hand had clutched mine mid-air, I swear I felt something snap inside me. Like a chain breaking. And in that moment, I knew: I was not letting her slip away.
I leaned closer, bracing myself on one arm, my gaze pinning her in place. My voice came out low, steady—serious in a way I rarely let myself be.
She leaned back on her hands, watching me with that unshakable grin. But when I spoke, her smile faltered; my voice wasn't teasing this time, it was softer. Straighter. Like a vow waiting to be made.
"Tell me about you, Felicity. Not the polished or princess version everyone thinks they know. Not what people expect. The real you. What do you like? What do you hate? What makes you stay awake at night? Anything."
The question hit her like a stone skipping across still water—small, simple, but the ripples went deep. Nobody had ever asked her that. Not like this.
For a moment, everything else slipped away—Christopher, Mia, the chaos of this tug-of-war. None of it mattered. All I saw was her, sunlight spilling across her face, eyes flickering like my question carried the weight of the world. And maybe… maybe it did.
Her smile faltered, just for a second, like I'd touched something she kept hidden.
And in that heartbeat of hesitation, she wasn't the girl trapped between two choices. Play it safe, or let me in. She was the real thing—raw, unguarded, breathtaking.
I didn't want her laugh. I didn't want her smile. I wanted her truth. And for once, I knew she was about to give it to me.
And as the sun rose higher, I knew I'd cornered her in the best way possible. She was deciding just how much of herself she could give away to me.
>>>>>
Felicity's POV.
I swallowed, buying time by plucking at the edge of the picnic blanket. Classic Alex—ambushing me with questions just when I thought we were going to eat croissants in peace.
"Okay…" I said slowly, a grin tugging at my lips. "My favorite food is pancakes. I like to dance in the rain. And people who don't take themselves too seriously. Oh—and I love winning arguments, especially against people who think they're smarter than me."
Alex arched an eyebrow. "Noted. Pancakes and victory speeches. Continue."
I rolled my eyes, but my chest was warm. "I hate…snakes. Oh, and math tests. And people who call me 'Paddington Bear' like it's the funniest joke in the world. It's not. Just kidding."
He chuckled, leaning in, and I knew he was about to say something smug. But then—
The playful shield cracked. And before I could stop myself, the truth slipped out.
"I hate feeling like I don't belong anywhere. Like I'm always almost enough, but never the one people choose first."
Silence. Heavy. Alive. The air between us shifted. His smirk faded, replaced by something sharper, hungrier.
He didn't look at me like I was "almost."
He looked at me like I was everything. And just like that, my heart was no longer mine. And then he kissed me again.