Spring arrived in Cedarwood with a slow, deliberate grace. The snow melted into streams that fed the town's quiet creeks, and buds appeared on the trees, promising the arrival of blooms. Nate found himself drawn outside more often, the shifting seasons mirroring the changes he felt within.
Lia had become a constant, her presence as familiar as the air he breathed. Yet, with that familiarity came a tension—a soft, unspoken undercurrent in their every interaction.
What were they to each other?
Nate wasn't sure how to ask, and Lia seemed content to let things unfold naturally. But as much as he appreciated her patience, he couldn't shake the feeling that she deserved clarity.
One afternoon, Nate was in his studio working on a new piece. The painting was vibrant and alive, a swirl of greens and yellows that reminded him of the way sunlight filtered through trees. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't hear Lia enter until she spoke.
"Wow," she said, startling him. "That's beautiful."
He turned to find her leaning against the doorway, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, a soft smile on her face.
"Thanks," he said, setting down his brush. "You always seem to show up when I'm in the middle of something."
"It's a gift," she replied, walking over to examine the painting more closely. "This one feels... hopeful."
"It is," he admitted.
She looked at him, her expression thoughtful. "You're changing, Nate. In a good way."
He chuckled. "You've said that before."
"Because it's true." She hesitated, then added, "You should give yourself more credit."
They spent the next hour talking, the conversation flowing as easily as ever. Lia had a way of drawing Nate out, coaxing stories and memories from him that he hadn't shared with anyone else.
"So," she said at one point, her tone teasing, "are you going to the spring festival?"
Nate groaned. "Do I have to?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "You're officially part of this town now. That means you show up for things like this."
"I'm not exactly a festival kind of guy."
"Well, lucky for you, I am," she said with a grin. "I'll make sure you don't get bored."
He couldn't help but smile. "Fine. But only because you'll be there."
The day of the festival arrived with clear skies and a warm breeze. The town square was alive with activity—stalls selling homemade crafts, musicians performing on a small stage, and children running around with balloons in hand.
Nate arrived reluctantly, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets as he scanned the crowd for Lia. He spotted her near the main stage, helping set up a banner she'd designed for the event.
She waved when she saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his chest tighten.
"You made it!" she said as he approached.
"Against my better judgment," he replied.
She laughed, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward one of the food stalls. "Come on. You need to try Mrs. Caldwell's funnel cake. It's basically a town tradition."
As the afternoon wore on, Nate found himself relaxing. The festival wasn't as bad as he'd expected, and being with Lia made it almost... fun.
They wandered through the stalls, sampling food and admiring the handmade crafts. Lia bought a pair of earrings shaped like tiny paintbrushes, insisting they were perfect for her.
"They're very you," Nate said, earning a playful shove.
Later, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting the square in a golden glow, a slow song began to play on the stage. Couples drifted toward the open space in front of the musicians, swaying to the music.
Lia turned to Nate, her eyes bright with mischief. "Dance with me."
"I don't dance," he said automatically.
"Neither do I," she replied, grabbing his hand. "Come on. It'll be fun."
Before he could protest further, she pulled him onto the makeshift dance floor. Her hands found his, guiding them into place, and he reluctantly followed her lead.
"You're terrible at this," she teased as they stumbled through the first few steps.
"I told you I don't dance," he said, though he was smiling despite himself.
They fell into an awkward rhythm, their movements more laughter than grace. But as the song continued, Nate found himself relaxing. Lia's warmth, her laughter, the way she looked at him—it was all-consuming.
By the time the song ended, he didn't want to let her go.
They walked home together that evening, the streets quiet under a canopy of stars. Nate's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, his heart caught between fear and longing.
When they reached Lia's door, she turned to him, her expression soft.
"Thanks for coming today," she said. "I know it wasn't really your thing, but... it meant a lot to me."
Nate hesitated, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "I didn't hate it. Mostly because you were there."
Lia smiled, her cheeks flushing pink.
Before she could respond, Nate reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. She froze, her eyes widening slightly, but she didn't pull away.
"Lia," he said quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I... I think I—"
She stepped closer, cutting him off with a gentle kiss. It was soft and tentative, a question more than an answer.
When they pulled apart, she looked at him, her eyes filled with both hope and vulnerability.
"You think you what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nate smiled, his heart pounding. "I think I'm falling for you."
Her smile widened, and for a moment, the world felt impossibly bright.
"Good," she said, her fingers tightening around his. "Because I think I'm falling for you, too."