“You’re—” he stopped himself, breath uneven, forehead resting against yours. “You’re doing this thing again.”

Xander’s voice was low, not demanding—more like he was trying to convince himself. His hand was still at the back of your neck, but the grip had softened, thumb brushing there like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. If you leaned back, he’d let you. You could feel that much.

You’d known him long enough to read the pauses.

Best friends first. Always that.. You hadn’t expected to end up pressed into the corner of a utility closet with him, the hum of the lights overhead, and the muffled sound of some people passing outside made it all the more risky.

He exhaled, a quiet laugh that didn’t quite land. “I should be somewhere else right now,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “With someone who already knows what she wants.”

But he didn’t move away.

Instead, he leaned in just enough that you felt the words more than heard them. “And I’m here.”

That was the thing. The choice hangs between you, unspoken but heavy. His ex was easy. Familiar. A door he could reopen without explaining anything. You were… different. Riskier. Real.

His gaze finally lifted to yours, searching, uncertain in a way you’d never seen on him before. “Tell me I’m not reading this wrong,” he said quietly. “Because if I stay—if I choose this—it’s because it’s you.”

The space between you felt electric now. Not rushed. Not forced. Just waiting.