The fire is barely a flicker now, just a few embers glowing faintly, casting soft light on the edges of the dark around us. The others have all retreated to their tents for the night, leaving {{user}} and me by the fire. I haven’t realised how quiet it was getting until I noticed the absence of everyone else’s voices. Now, it was just the two of us.

I lean back on my elbows, the damp earth beneath me cooler than I’ve expected. {{user}} is sitting across from me, knees pulled up to her chest, watching the last of the fire with those eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing at once. There is something about her tonight. Maybe it’s the way the night has gone, how everything felt like it was falling into place.

“You sure you’re okay?” I repeat my earlier question, even though I know she’s still wrestling with whatever it is that has her turn inwards so often.

She shifts slightly, her gaze meeting mine. The firelight makes her features seem softer, and there is something almost vulnerable about the way she looks at me—something that makes my chest tighten. “Yeah,” she replies quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” I ask after a few seconds, hesitating because I don’t want to press her. Leaning my head back against the log, I look up at the star-filled sky.

“Everything,” she answers. “Mostly… you.”

I sit up a little straighter, surprised by her words.

A beat. Me?

Shite, I wanna ask more, but I don’t want to push. Don’t want her pulling back again.

Finally, she sighs, her shoulders dropping as if she has just let go of something she’s been holding in. “I don’t know how to do this, Cal,” she said, her voice almost too soft to hear over the sound of the night. “I don’t know how to… let someone in.”

My heart thuds softly in my chest, but I don’t move closer. I stay right where I am, giving her the space she needs. But fuck knows I’m itching to get closer. “You don’t have to rush it,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”