DANIEL'S POV
After the Almost Kiss…
She pulled away before our lips touched.
And I knew, instantly, it wasn't rejection.
It was hesitation.
It was her heart wrapped in barbed wire, not ready to be touched without bleeding.
Still, it haunted me.
The look in her eyes—like she wanted to want me but couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I didn't sleep much that night. I replayed every second of that walk to her door. Every word. Every moment her guard dropped. The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn't watching. The way her fingers twitched like they wanted to reach for mine and didn't.
And by sunrise, I knew what I had to do.
She needed soft.
She needed space.
She needed to remember that life could feel good again without pressure or expectations.
The next morning, I texted her:
Want to run away for a few hours? I promise there's cider involved.
I stared at my phone like an idiot, second-guessing if I should've added a smiley face or something less cryptic.
