The bass thrummed through the walls, rattling in my chest like a second heartbeat. The whole house smelled like spilled vodka and cheap Halloween fog, and I was probably three sips away from saying something completely fucking stupid. But for once, I didn’t care. Not when she was here, pressed up against me like she actually wanted to be.

I’d been chasing this for weeks. Now she was kissing me like she meant it, her fingers fisting in my shirt like she was holding on for dear life.

Her lips were warm, soft, a little unsure, but I didn’t push. Wouldn’t dare. Just let her set the pace, let her take whatever she wanted from me.

Until—

“Okay, maybe not.”

“S’alright, baby,” I murmured, voice low, soothing, like I could feel her panic even though she was trying to bury it. “It’s just me.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, but I just shook my head, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face.

“Nope. Don’t do that.” My thumb grazed her cheek, slow and easy, as I kept my other hand splayed across her lower back, anchoring her. “You don’t ever have to be sorry with me, alright? If you don’t want this, we don’t do it. Simple.”

She blinked up at me, like maybe she wasn’t used to people stopping when she asked them to. And Jesus Christ, if that didn’t send a whole new kind of anger curling low in my gut.

“You sure?” she whispered, so soft I almost didn’t hear it.

I huffed out a laugh, leaning in just enough to bump my forehead against hers. “{{user}}, I’d sit in a fucking library and read a book with you if that’s what you wanted.”

And considering I’m fucking dyslexic, that’s saying a lot.

That made her snort. I grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of her head.

“Come on,” I murmured, lacing our fingers together. “Think I saw some lad in a banana costume throwing hands with a vampire in the front garden. We definitely need a better view of that.”