The bracelet felt heavier than it looked.
It was just a simple black cord with a silver disc, barely the size of a dime. Engraved with Z + L. Small. Clean. Unassuming. But when I slipped it onto my wrist, it felt like something more.
Like a promise.
Like a thread tying me to Liam Hunter in a way I wasn't ready to name.
The whole walk home, I kept glancing down at it. Twisting it, tracing the initials over and over like I was trying to make sense of them. Of him.
He hadn't needed to do it. I didn't ask for it. Hell, I didn't even know he was capable of something that… thoughtful. Sweet. Sentimental.
And yet there he was. Standing in front of me after school like the world hadn't tilted on its axis, handing me a velvet pouch that made my heart race faster than it had any right to.
I saw it, and I thought of you. Of us.
Us.
That word echoed in my head as I reached the front door, my fingers tightening around the strap of my backpack. Kaylee wasn't home—thank God—and Nick was probably off sulking or punching walls or whatever it was he did when he didn't get his way. My dad would be working late again.
The house was quiet.
For once, I didn't mind.
I dropped my bag by the couch and went straight to my room, peeling off my jacket and tossing it on the chair in the corner. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and paused.
The bracelet stood out against my skin. A tiny silver circle glowing against the soft brown of my wrist.
I touched it gently, like it might vanish if I wasn't careful.
I hated how much it meant to me.
Hated how something so small made my chest tighten every time I looked at it.
Because if this was all a game—if what Kaylee heard was even a little bit true—I was going to be shattered.
I didn't want to believe it. Liam hadn't given me a single reason to doubt him lately. He was patient, kind even. He looked at me like I was something rare—something worth knowing.
He remembered little things. My favorite coffee order. That I hated wearing my hair tied up for too long. That I always flinched at loud noises. That I liked to be quiet in crowded rooms.
Boys didn't notice things like that.
But Liam did.
I flopped onto my bed, phone in hand, scrolling through our texts. There weren't that many—he wasn't exactly the paragraph type—but they were real. Funny. Random. Sometimes frustrating. Always a little flirtatious. But real.
Then I opened the gallery.
There was a photo he took of me when I wasn't paying attention. I was mid-laugh, holding my iced mocha, head tilted back. I should've hated the photo—it was candid and unposed—but I didn't.
I looked… happy.
I was happy.
When he was around, the world didn't feel so jagged.
I curled up, my fingers brushing the bracelet again.
I should've been more cautious. Should've guarded my heart a little better. But he'd wormed his way in, day by day, look by look, word by word. He'd disarmed me with every stolen glance and unexpected kindness.
And now?
Now I was the girl lying on her bed in a quiet house, smiling like a fool at a piece of silver on a string.
This was real. I wanted it to be real.
So badly, it scared me.
I didn't know what was coming.
I didn't know what he was hiding.
But tonight… tonight I let myself believe in this.
In him.
In us.
Even if it broke me later.
*************
If someone had told me a few weeks ago that I'd end up falling for Liam Hunter, I would've laughed. Maybe even rolled my eyes.
Liam was everything I wasn't supposed to want.
Too cocky. Too unpredictable. Too wrapped up in the crowd that always made me feel like I didn't belong. He was Beatrice's favorite. The one who smirked his way through the hallways and flirted like it cost him nothing.
But now?
Now he was the first person I looked for when I entered a room. The one whose laugh I could pick out from across the quad. The boy who texted me when he knew I had a test just to say, you've got this, Z.
And somehow… it worked. He got to me.
The days passed quietly, slowly melting into each other. We didn't talk about the future. We didn't even define what we were. But every moment with him started to feel more permanent. More necessary.
Our conversations were different now. Longer. Deeper. We'd sit on the hood of his car after school and just… talk. About nothing and everything. His dad, who he barely mentioned before. My mother, who I still didn't speak to. The way we both hated winter but loved the smell of rain.
One afternoon, I told him I used to dance when I was younger—before everything changed, before my life got flipped upside down by Nick and my dad's second marriage. I hadn't danced in years.
He didn't say anything at first.
Then, a few days later, he picked me up and drove us to a quiet street behind an old building. A dance studio. Closed, but the back lot was empty and quiet, the street lights glowing softly.
"No one's here," he said. "But you can still move."
I blinked at him. "You remembered?"
He shrugged. "You said it mattered to you. So…"
So I did.
I stepped out of the car, barefoot on the pavement, the soft breeze curling around me. I didn't do anything fancy. I just moved—slowly, freely. Liam sat on the hood, watching with that quiet, unreadable look he wore sometimes. The one that made me feel like he was trying to memorize me.
When I finally stopped, cheeks flushed, breath a little short, he simply said, "You should never stop doing that."
He made me feel like I mattered. Like I was more than just a sidekick to Kaylee or an unwanted stepdaughter or the quiet girl who kept her head down.
With Liam, I was something more.
Some nights, we talked until 1 a.m., our voices low and sleepy over the phone. He told me things I wasn't sure anyone else knew. Like how he sometimes felt like the person everyone expected him to be didn't match who he really was. Like he had to wear a mask to be accepted.
And I understood that more than anyone.
One evening, we sat in his room, backs against the wall, knees brushing. He was showing me photos on his phone—places he wanted to travel to. Greece. Iceland. Morocco.
I asked him why Morocco.
He glanced at me, then said, "Because I'd like to see you under real stars. Not these fake city lights."
My heart did that weird fluttering thing again.
I leaned my head against his shoulder, and he didn't move away. He just rested his cheek against my hair, and we stayed like that for a long time, breathing in the same quiet rhythm.
And then there were the small touches.
The way his hand found mine without needing a reason.
The way he'd trace circles on the back of my hand with his thumb when we sat together.
The way he looked at me like he wasn't used to wanting something for real—but now that he did, he couldn't look away.
I started noticing how often I smiled when I was around him. How I waited for his messages. How his name made my chest tighten.
I was falling for Liam Hunter. Fully, completely, terrifyingly.
And he made me feel like maybe, just maybe… he was falling too.