Ali’s house wasn’t anything spectacular—she knew that better than anyone. It was small, tucked neatly on a quiet street, with pale walls that could have used a fresh coat of paint and a creaky gate that squealed in protest whenever she pushed it open. The garden out front was modest, a handful of potted plants she barely managed to keep alive. To her, it was nothing remarkable. But to Ali, it was home—her little pocket of comfort, her safe space away from everything else.
Ray, however, didn’t look at it with the critical eye she did. When they arrived, his gaze swept over the small yard, the neat row of plants by the window, and then up to the house itself. He smiled softly, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. “It’s cozy,” he said simply, and there was something so genuine in his voice that Ali’s cheeks warmed despite herself.
“You don’t have to be polite,” she muttered, fumbling with her keys.
He leaned a little closer, his voice teasing. “I’m not. It’s exactly what I imagined for you. Warm. Lived-in. You.”
Ali froze for a second before pushing open the door quickly, as if escaping the weight of his words. Her stomach knotted and fluttered at the same time. She wasn’t used to this—Ray standing here, his presence filling her space so effortlessly. For three years, he had been confined to her laptop screen or the glowing rectangle of her phone. Now he was here, stepping over her threshold, brushing past her as he looked around with quiet curiosity.
Inside, the house smelled faintly of lavender—her favorite candle still burning low on the coffee table. The furniture was mismatched, a second-hand couch pressed against the wall, shelves lined with books, and a blanket tossed casually over the armrest. It wasn’t perfect, but it was hers.
Ray ran a hand along the back of the couch, glancing at the framed photos scattered across the shelves. “This is nice,” he murmured. “Feels… real.”
Ali tilted her head, confused. “Real?”
“Yeah. Like you live here. It’s not some Instagram aesthetic apartment. It’s you.” He turned to her then, his eyes soft, and Ali suddenly found the floor very interesting.
She shuffled awkwardly. “Well, uh… I guess I should show you your room.”
Ray smirked, adjusting the strap of his bag again. “Lead the way.”
Her throat felt dry as she walked him through the narrow hallway. Each step made her acutely aware of how close he was behind her. She could hear the faint scuff of his shoes against the wooden floor, the shift of his backpack. She stopped in front of her bedroom door, hesitating only a second before pushing it open.
Her room was simple—a desk tucked in the corner, stacks of books piled unevenly on top, a dresser that had seen better days, and two beds. Her own was pressed against the wall, neatly made with a soft gray blanket. The other, a smaller guest bed, had been set up just the night before. She had fussed over it for longer than she’d admit, smoothing the sheets over and over, fluffing the pillows until they looked passable.
Ray stepped inside, his gaze immediately falling on the extra bed. One corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “So… you were prepared after all?”
Ali’s cheeks flushed. She folded her arms across her chest defensively. “I—Shut up.”
Ray chuckled under his breath, setting his backpack down on the guest bed. “You make it sound like I caught you planning something scandalous.”
“I wasn’t planning anything,” she snapped quickly, then regretted how sharp it sounded. “I just… wanted to make sure you had somewhere comfortable to sleep, okay?”
He tilted his head, watching her carefully. “Hey. I know. I’m just teasing.”
Ali huffed and sat down on the edge of her bed, trying to hide how flustered she felt. But then Ray moved closer. He didn’t sit beside her right away. Instead, he crouched down in front of her, his hand reaching out to gently grip her chin, coaxing her gaze upward.
Ali’s breath caught. His face was suddenly so close, their noses almost brushing. She could feel the warmth of his skin, smell the faint traces of cologne clinging to his shirt. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
“Ray…” she whispered, her throat tight.
His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there for a moment before flicking back to her eyes. She could see it—see the hesitation, the unspoken question in his expression.
“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice low.
Ali swallowed hard. Her chest ached with the weight of everything unspoken—the late-night calls, the three years of distance, the longing she had tried to bury beneath jokes and casual banter. And now, here he was, right in front of her.
“We… we can’t. Can we?” Her voice cracked on the words, her uncertainty laid bare.
Ray’s hand stayed steady against her chin, his thumb brushing lightly against her jaw. “Why not?” he asked softly.
Ali’s breath shuddered. She searched for the right answer, but her mind tangled with a thousand thoughts. “Because… it’s too much. Too soon. You’ve been here for, what, two hours? And already—already we’re…” She trailed off, unable to finish.
Ray leaned a fraction closer, the tip of his nose brushing hers. “Ali,” he whispered, and the way he said her name sent a tremor down her spine. “We’ve been doing this for three years. Every late-night call. Every time you fell asleep with me still talking in your ear. Every morning text. Don’t tell me this is too soon. We’ve been here all along—we’re just finally in the same room.”
Her chest tightened painfully. His words hit deep, cutting through the fear and exposing the truth she had been avoiding. He was right. This wasn’t sudden. This wasn’t some impulsive mistake. It had been building quietly for years, waiting for this moment.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Ray didn’t close the distance, though. He stayed still, his hand soft against her skin, his gaze steady. “But if you’re not ready,” he said gently, “I’ll wait. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not sure about.”
The sincerity in his voice nearly undid her. Tears pricked her eyes—not out of sadness, but out of the sheer weight of everything she felt in that moment.
“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” she admitted in a whisper. “I just know I don’t want this to end.”
Ray’s lips curved into a faint smile, tender and patient. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “Then let’s just… be here. Together. No pressure. No rushing.”
Ali closed her eyes, breathing him in. The warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid reality of him—it was grounding. Comforting.
They stayed like that for what felt like forever, caught in the quiet hum of their own little world.
Eventually, Ray pulled back slightly, his hand falling away from her chin but his presence still close, still enveloping. He straightened, settling onto the edge of the guest bed across from hers. “So,” he said with a faint grin, trying to lighten the mood, “does this mean I should keep my hands to myself tonight?”
Ali laughed through the remnants of her nerves, swatting at him with a pillow. “Yes, obviously.”
He caught the pillow easily, tossing it aside with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Noted. But for the record, you’re terrible at pretending you don’t want me closer.”
Her face burned, and she threw another pillow at him just to hide her fluster. He laughed, catching it again.
For the rest of the evening, they talked. About the flight. About the small things they had missed saying over the phone. About everything and nothing at once. It was easy, like slipping into a rhythm they had always known.
And when night fell, when the candles burned low and the room grew quiet, Ali lay in her bed listening to the soft sound of Ray’s breathing just a few feet away. She thought she’d never be able to sleep with the storm of emotions still raging inside her. But somehow, with him there, she drifted off.
