Unwritten Obsession - Joe Goldberg

Chapter Seventeen: One Step at a Time

Joe

The kiss lingers in my mind, long after her lips have left mine. It wasn't just a kiss. It was Juliet letting me in, even if just for a moment. It felt fragile, like trying to catch a snowflake before it melts. But it was real.

I watch her now as she sits across from me, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her coffee cup. Her walls aren't down—not completely—but there's a crack in them, a tiny sliver of light.

"You're quiet," I say, my voice low, cautious.

She glances up, her lips twitching into a small, almost shy smile. "I'm just... processing."

"Take your time," I reply, leaning back in my chair. "I'm not going anywhere."

Her gaze softens, but there's still hesitation in her eyes. "You say that like it's so easy for you."

"It's not," I admit. "But it's worth it."

Juliet lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You're so sure of everything, Joe. I don't know how you do it."

"I'm not sure of everything," I counter. "I'm just sure of this. Of you."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, I worry I've said too much. But then she reaches across the table, her fingers brushing against mine.

"Joe," she starts, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to... be this. Be with someone like you."

"You don't have to know," I tell her, turning my hand over so our palms touch. "We'll figure it out together."

Her hand tightens slightly around mine, and the vulnerability in her expression is enough to break my heart.

"What if I can't?" she asks, her voice trembling.

"Then I'll wait," I say simply. "As long as it takes."

The room feels quieter, like the rest of the world has faded away. For the first time, I see something new in Juliet's eyes—something softer, more open.

She pulls her hand away, but not in rejection. Instead, she stands, her movements hesitant but deliberate.

"Come with me," she says, her voice steady but quiet.

I blink, surprised, but I don't hesitate. I rise to my feet, following her as she leads me out of the café and into the cool evening air.

We walk in silence, the city bustling around us, but it feels like we're in our own little bubble. She doesn't say where we're going, and I don't ask. I trust her.

Finally, we stop in front of a small park. The benches are empty, the faint glow of streetlights casting shadows over the trees. She takes a deep breath before turning to me.

"This is my favorite place," she says, her voice soft. "I come here when I need to think."

"It's beautiful," I reply, my eyes on her, not the park.

She laughs quietly, a sound I could get used to. "You're so damn cheesy."

"Only when it matters," I counter with a grin.

She shakes her head, but there's no annoyance in her expression. Instead, she takes a step closer, her arms wrapping around herself like she's trying to keep warm.

"Joe," she says, her voice quieter now. "I'm scared. Of this. Of you. Of how you make me feel."

"I know," I reply, taking a step closer. "And I'm scared too. But we don't have to figure it all out right now. We just have to be here. Together."

She looks up at me, her eyes brimming with uncertainty and something else—hope.

"I don't know if I can promise anything," she whispers.

"You don't have to," I say, my voice firm. "Just let me be here. That's all I need."

For a moment, she doesn't move, doesn't speak. Then, slowly, she closes the distance between us, her arms slipping around my waist. I hold her gently, careful not to break the fragile trust she's offering.

"I don't know how this is supposed to work," she murmurs into my chest.

"We'll figure it out," I promise, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

As we stand there, wrapped in each other under the faint glow of the streetlights, I feel it—the quiet certainty that this is where I'm supposed to be. With her.

One step at a time.