Aidan didn't move back.
He got closer, if anything.
"So," he said quietly, leaning just enough to enter her space, "now that you know… you don't need me to pretend anymore."
Raven didn't move.
"Are you not afraid of me?" he asked.
A faint smirk touched her lips. "Should I be?"
Aidan leant in further, too close now. Close enough that his voice dropped into something softer, heavier.
"I'm not friends with him," he murmured. "But I'm certainly… something to you."
Raven let out a short, dry laugh, meeting his gaze without flinching.
For a split second, a different voice echoed in her mind.
"What inspired the ending of your book?"
"How did you write something that tragic?"
Her voice was distant and detached.
"An ex-crush."
The memory snapped.
Reality returned.
Her expression shifted—barely.
"A stranger," she corrected, her voice quieter now.
She stepped back, looking away, her eyes burning and watery.
