He hadn’t meant to stand that close. At least, that’s what he told himself when he first felt the faint brush of her breath against his jaw. But she didn’t move—not even an inch. Her stillness wasn’t passive; it was deliberate, like a challenge laid in silence. Her eyes didn’t waver. They held him there, making him acutely aware of how little space there really was between them. The air in that gap felt charged, as though every heartbeat narrowed the distance further without either of them having to move at all.
It wasn’t just proximity—it was the way she let him discover it on his own. If she had stepped forward, it would have been obvious, predictable. But by staying perfectly still, she forced him to realize that he was the one who’d invaded her space. And she wasn’t resisting. That knowledge worked its way into him slowly, until his breath matched hers, until the background noise around them faded into nothing.
Her hands rested lightly at her sides, but her fingers flexed once, just enough to make him wonder if she was fighting the urge to reach for him. Her lips were parted—not in invitation, but as though she was tasting the moment. And he couldn’t help thinking that if he leaned the tiniest fraction closer, she wouldn’t stop him. But she didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. Every second she remained motionless was a statement: You’re already exactly where I wanted you.