AFTER GLOW

Mel pov

Mel couldn't stop thinking about the night as she walked home. The soft glow of streetlights, the crisp air on her skin, and the lingering warmth of Jace's hand in hers—it all felt surreal, like something out of a movie she never expected to be in.

She'd been hesitant, and yet, there had been a part of her that felt right about being with him. Not in the rushed, overwhelming way she'd been so afraid of, but in a calm, quiet sense. With every glance they exchanged, every soft laugh, Mel had felt something inside her shift.

The kiss—brief but meaningful—had left her heart pounding long after it was over.

She pulled out her phone as she reached her apartment building, her fingers hovering over his number. For a brief moment, she considered texting him.

But what would she say? What was she even supposed to say?

Instead, she settled for something simpler. A message just for herself.

> I don't know what this is yet. But I think I want to find out.

She smiled softly, almost shyly, at the thought.

When she got inside her apartment, she slid into her favorite chair and let the day sink into her. It wasn't just the date. It was the feeling that had lingered. The warmth, the connection, the way Jace made her feel seen, without trying too hard.

She thought about what he'd said: No games. No pressure.

For the first time in a long time, she believed him.

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Jace's pov

Jace sat in his car, parked on the street in front of Mel's building. He wasn't sure why he was lingering here—maybe just to see if she got home safely, or maybe because the quiet of the night felt like the right time to process everything that had happened.

Dinner with Mel had been better than he'd imagined. She wasn't like the women he'd dated before. She wasn't impressed by his wealth or his name. She wasn't looking for anything from him, except maybe a chance to see who he really was.

And that… that felt real.

Jace leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. He thought about the kiss. How she hadn't pulled away, how she had responded in a way that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't chasing after something unattainable.

He had never been the type of guy to be nervous. But with her? With Mel? It was different.

He picked up his phone, tapping out a quick message to her:

> "Good night, Mel. Thank you for tonight. I'm looking forward to more of these moments with you."

He hit send before he could second-guess himself. As the message sent, he felt a small sense of relief. It wasn't about getting an immediate response. It was just about putting it out there—the truth, simple and unembellished.

He checked the time, realizing it was well past midnight. There was still a good chance she was still awake, but part of him hoped she wasn't. He didn't want to bombard her with messages. He wanted her to take her time. To decide at her own pace.

As he drove away from her building, his thoughts kept drifting back to her. To the way she'd looked at him when he'd asked her to dinner, to the softness of her smile. There was something in her eyes tonight, something that told him she was thinking—thinking about him, just like he was thinking about her.

And as he turned a corner, he couldn't help but feel like this was only the beginning.

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