June – POV
The morning air bit through the city haze, but I didn't flinch as I stepped outside Nate's apartment.
He stood in the doorway, coffee in one hand, the other tucked in his hoodie pocket like he wasn't sure what to do with it. That crooked, boyish smile was still plastered on his face—the kind that probably made girls hand him their hearts on paper napkins.
"I could drop you off," he offered. "At your place. Or… wherever."
Sweet. Thoughtful. Dangerously decent.
But I didn't need decent right now.
"I'll be fine," I said, brushing past him with a half-smile. "Thanks for the coffee, though. And the discount therapy pitch."
He chuckled, scratched the back of his neck. "Still stands."
I took his number when he held it out. Smiled again. Said I'd call.
I lied.
As the cab pulled away and the city rushed past my window, something in me shifted. It was subtle at first—like the click of a gear slipping into place.
