Untouchable

0.45

Ivy’s POV

His lips were on mine again, slower this time but just as intense. I felt it everywhere—the way his hands gripped my waist, the way his fingers trembled slightly against my skin like he was afraid to let go.

I kissed him back just as desperately. Because if I let myself think too hard, I’d remember that this was Adrian, and Adrian had always been a mess of contradictions.

The same boy who pushed me away at every turn, who told me to stay away from his friends, who watched me with a fire in his eyes but never let himself burn.

But tonight, he wasn’t holding back.

His hand slid up to cup my face, tilting my head just right, and I shivered at the feeling of his thumb grazing my cheek. He kissed me like he wanted to claim me, like he was trying to make up for all the times he didn’t.

And maybe I wanted to let him.

But then the words I’d forced out before echoed in my head. And tomorrow?

Because that was the real question, wasn’t it?

I pulled away, breathing hard. His forehead rested against mine, his eyes still closed like he was trying to hold onto the moment. But I couldn’t let myself get lost in it.

"Adrian," I whispered, my voice unsteady. "What happens now?"

His brows furrowed slightly, and his grip on me tightened.

"I don’t know," he admitted.

I swallowed, my fingers still clutching his shirt. "You always say that."

He opened his eyes then, and the way he looked at me nearly knocked the breath out of my lungs. Like he hated that I was right. Like he hated himself for it.

“I’m not running,” he said, his voice lower now, more certain. “Not from this. Not from you.”

Something inside me cracked at the way he said it.

I wanted to believe him. But history had a way of repeating itself, and Adrian had spent too long convincing me he didn’t care.

I searched his face, trying to find some kind of hesitation, some sign that he’d wake up tomorrow and pretend this never happened.

But all I saw was resolve.

"I need you to mean that," I said softly.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. "I do."

A part of me still wanted to argue, to push until I was sure, but then he kissed me again—slower, deeper, with a tenderness I hadn’t expected. And maybe this time, I let myself believe it just a little.