The library was quiet in that careful way where breathing felt too loud. Cole walked in like he belonged there now — not searching for books, just her.

But the front desk was empty.

His jaw tightened.

He scanned the shelves.

And then—he saw her.

Tucked away in the back corner where sunlight poured like gold over her hair. Legs folded beneath her, glasses sliding down her nose, reading so intently she didn’t notice the world.

He stopped.

Just to look.

Just to breathe her in.

Then he moved — slow, silent — until he was beside her, leaning just enough to see the page.

He froze.

Not history. Not philosophy.

Something… very different.

Heat curled in his chest.

His smile was slow. Dangerous.

“Well…” he murmured, voice like velvet dragging down her spine, “this is… unexpected.”

Clara startled so hard the book nearly flew out of her hands.

“COLE—! Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

He didn’t move back. He didn’t even blink.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he said softly. “You were just very… involved.”

Her cheeks flamed. She hugged the book to her chest and stood like she meant to leave.

He stepped in front of her, one hand braced casually on the shelf beside her head — not trapping her, just there, blocking her escape without ever touching her.

His voice dropped.

“Don’t run.”

Clara froze.

He glanced at the book still clutched in her hand.

“I didn’t know you liked stories like that.”

“It’s just a book,” she whispered.

“Mhm.” He leaned in, breath brushing her cheek. “You kept turning the pages like you were starving.”

Clara’s pulse thrummed in her throat.

Cole lowered his voice, each word warm and slow, like he was speaking directly against her skin.

“I always knew you were a good girl, Clara.”

His eyes dragged from her lips to her throat.

“But good girls…”

He leaned closer.

“…they feel everything more.”

Her knees nearly buckled — she hated that he could see it.

He lifted one hand — slow, deliberate — and brushed just one finger along the spine of the book she held.

“I’m just trying to figure out…”

His lips were inches from hers now.

“…were you imagining these things happening to you—”

Her breath trembled.

“—or were you imagining them happening with me?”

Clara’s lungs forgot how to work.

She didn’t pull away.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t think.

She just looked at him.

And that was all he needed.

He angled closer — lips hovering over hers, seconds away, not touching, just promising.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

She didn’t.

She didn’t even blink.

He exhaled — soft — like she was the first real breath he’d had all day.

“God, Clara,” he murmured. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Their lips brushed—

“LIBRARIAN TO THE FRONT DESK, PLEASE!”

The spell shattered.

Clara jerked back like the moment burned her.

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t breathe. Just gathered her things and ran.

Cole stayed where he was, hand on the shelf, heart pounding, a stunned, breathless laugh leaving him.

“Yeah,” he whispered to the empty aisle.

“She feels it too.”

The door clicked softly behind Clara as she walked into the room, her pulse still unsettled. The faint smell of vanilla candles and Lily’s floral body mist lingered in the air, warm and familiar. Lily sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling on her phone with a smile that looked… unusually bright.

Clara dropped her bag and tried to keep her expression neutral, even though her face still felt hot—his breath, his hands, his voice replaying like whispers against her skin.

Lily glanced up.

“Heyyy,” she sang, voice light. “You look flushed. Did you run or something?”

Clara forced her eyes away and went to her dresser.

“No. I just… the library was warm.”

Lily hummed, in that I don’t believe you but okay way.

“Well. Guess what?” she said, excitement bubbling under her tone. “Today was a very good day.”

Clara raised a brow, curious. “Oh? What happened?”

Lily quickly shook her head, biting her lip like she was trying not to smile too hard.

“Nothing! Just—good day. Classes were good. Weather was good. You know.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Anyway, um… can I ask you something?”

Clara sat at the edge of her bed. “Sure.”

Lily glanced at her, suddenly shy.

“Is there… someone you like?”

The question hit Clara like a sudden rush of heat.

Her mind betrayed her instantly:

Cole leaning over her—

His hand on her waist—

His lips inches from hers—

His voice, low and sinful at her ear: “Good girls can still want things, Clara.”

Her breath stuttered, and she felt her face warm all over again.

Lily blinked at her. “You okay?”

Clara snapped out of it and shook her head quickly. “No! I mean—no, there’s no one. I don’t like anyone. Nobody.”

Too fast. Too defensive.

Lily didn’t push. She just smiled gently, as if she believed her.

But Clara saw it now—the sparkle in Lily’s eyes. The glowing warmth. The way she hugged her pillow like she was holding in fireworks.

Clara narrowed her eyes.

“…Okay. Your turn. Is there someone you like?”

Lily froze—then her cheeks turned pink, bright like rose petals.

Clara gasped, delighted. “Wait—there is someone!”

Lily covered her face with both hands, squealing quietly.

“Maybe…”

“Oh my God! Who is it?” Clara leaned in. “Tell me!”

Lily peeked through her fingers, smiling so hard her eyes were tiny crescents.

“…I’ll tell you later.”

“Later? Why not now?”

Lily hugged her pillow tighter, voice small and fluttery.

“Because… I just need to be sure. First.”

Something in her tone was so soft, so hopeful, that Clara’s teasing faded into warmth.

Clara smiled.

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

Lily nodded, still glowing with a dream she kept safely tucked inside.

But neither of them slept easily that night.

Clara’s heart raced at the memory of Cole’s breath ghosting her lips.

And Lily held her pillow close, Jason’s voice replaying in her head—

“You’re… really easy to talk to.”

They were both falling.

But only one of them knew she was falling into a fire.