She melted into him, gripping his shirt, trying to soak in everything: how he felt, how he smelled, and how he made her feel safe enough to really want this.
She had spent so long feeling like she wasn't enough—too awkward, too quiet, too much herself.
But Zayn looked at her like she was everything he wanted, like her shyness was something to appreciate, not something to fix.
For the first time, Emma allowed herself to believe that.
Zayn pulled back just enough to really see her. His gaze traced her face like he was trying to remember every little detail, and Emma felt her cheeks heat up under his look.
"What's up?" she whispered.
"Nothing. Just... you." He brushed his thumb across her lower lip. "You have no idea what you do to me."
