The kiss ended, but I didn't move. I couldn't. Our foreheads were still pressed together, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. I could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong, and mine seemed to echo it, like they were linked somehow.
This thing between us—I didn't know how to explain it, didn't know how to put it into words, but I didn't need to. I could feel it. And I knew she could too.
But there was more I needed to say. I needed her to understand. I had opened the door to something big when I told her she dazzled me, when I told her she was more than she realized.
But I hadn't told her the whole story. I hadn't told her about my own darkness, my own past. The part of me that was still locked away, buried deep because I didn't know how to let it out.
But she deserved to know. She deserved the truth.
I took a deep breath, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. Her gaze was steady, open, and I knew she was ready to hear whatever I had to say. But still, the words were hard to find.
I wasn't used to this. I wasn't used to opening up, to letting anyone see the parts of me I had spent so long hiding.
"I need to tell you something," I began, my voice low, almost hesitant. "Something I've never told anyone."
Her eyes softened, and she nodded, her hand still resting gently on my arm. "I'm listening."
I took another deep breath, trying to steady myself. "My mom… she wasn't like yours," I started, my voice shaky. "She wasn't sick like that. But she had her own demons. After my dad left, she started drinking. And it wasn't just a glass of wine here and there. It became something more. She started taking sleeping pills, too. Mixing them with alcohol."
I paused, the memories flooding back in a rush—memories I had spent years trying to forget. My mother passed out on the couch, an empty bottle in one hand, a pill bottle in the other.
Me, standing over her, shaking her, trying to wake her up, terrified that one day she wouldn't open her eyes.
"She overdosed," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "No one ever told me if it was an accident or if… if she did it on purpose. She had a habit of taking too many pills, mixing them with alcohol, and one night… she just didn't wake up."
A lump formed in my throat, and I had to swallow hard to keep my voice steady. "I was too young to understand what was happening at first, but as I got older, it became impossible to ignore. She went through men after that—after the divorce, I mean. None of them cared about me. They didn't want me. They wanted the Drake money, the power that came with being part of the family. They wanted her for what she represented, not for who she was."
I paused, my hands tightening into fists at the memory. "I never believed in love because of that. I didn't think it existed. Not for me, anyway. Everyone I've ever known has wanted something from me. They didn't want me. They wanted what I could give them. The name. The money. The status."
I met Megan's gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. She was the only person who had ever made me feel different.
The only person who didn't seem to care about any of that. She saw me, the real me, not the Drake name, not the legacy, just me.
"That's why I've never fallen in love," I admitted, my voice soft but firm. "I never thought it was possible. But with you… I don't know. I don't know what this is, but I know it's something I've never felt before."
For a long moment, there was silence. I wasn't sure what I expected her to say. Maybe I was afraid she would pull away, that my story would be too much, that I was too broken.
But then she spoke, her voice soft, filled with a kind of understanding that made my heart ache.
"I feel the same," she whispered. "I don't understand it either. I can't seem to put it into words."
I leaned in, closing the distance between us, and kissed her again. This time, it wasn't urgent or desperate.
It was slow, tender, filled with all the things I couldn't say. Her lips were soft against mine, and I could feel her heartbeat in sync with my own, steady and strong.
When the kiss ended, we stayed like that for a while, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths mingling in the cool night air.
I didn't want to move. I didn't want to break the moment. Because for the first time in my life, I was no longer afraid of what came next.
I was look forward to the future. Maybe there was something good waiting for me.