Expected (18+)

17

Valentina's POV

My eyes flicked to the chandelier above us, its light catching on the glass like stars caught mid-fall. Anything to avoid looking at him again. Because if I did, if I looked a second too long—I'd forget how to breathe.

He stood beside me now, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of his cologne. My heart betrayed me with a flutter, stupid and soft. I hated it.

Mr. Solvona laughed lightly and moved on, pulled into another conversation, leaving us suspended in the heavy silence he'd unintentionally crafted.

"I didn't think you'd come," I said finally, voice quieter than I intended. It was a defense, a challenge, a confession.

Ezra tilted his head, watching me the way he used to when he was trying to figure out something, like he was trying to read me.

"And miss this?" His voice was soft, unreadable. "Not a chance."

I didn't know what he meant—if he was talking about the ball, or me. But he was here, and I was here, and suddenly the night felt like a loaded  question neither of us had the courage to answer.

Ezra's POV

She looked like a goddamn dream, one I'd spent too many nights trying to forget. And the worst part was, I could tell she knew it. That dress, that look in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

I hadn't even meant to look at her when my father called me over. But the second I did, the room narrowed. Everything else dulled, like the universe had the courtesy to dim itself for her.

"You do," I said, because what else could I say? You've ruined me? I still dream about you? No. I said she looked beautiful. And she did. Devastatingly so.

She looked away after I said it—like she couldn't stand to hold my gaze. It made my chest tighten.

When she spoke, it caught me off guard. "I didn't think you'd come." Her voice was softer than I remembered. Or maybe I just missed it that much.

I hadn't come for the ball. I came because I knew she'd be here. Because even after everything, some part of me still belonged to her, and maybe always would.

Now, standing this close, watching her pretend I didn't still affect her, I realized something painful and inevitable. We weren't done. Not really. There were still things left unsaid. Still sparks buried under ash.

The only question was—what would we do with them tonight?

"I'm going to use the restroom, excuse me." She speaks swiftly moving by me in a rush — my eyes follow her and the way her body moves as she walks away swaying her hips.

I couldn't look away she was corrupting my mind, and the hardness in my pants.

Valentina's POV

Inside the restroom, I gripped the edge of the sink, forcing myself to breathe. My reflection stared back at me—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, lips still parted slightly.

"Get it together," I told myself. "This isn't the time to fall apart."

But he looked at me like I was still his.

And for a second, I let myself feel like I was.

I pressed my hands to my face, trying to cool the fire burning beneath my skin. It wasn't just lust. It was history. It was unfinished business. It was the way his voice still knew how to wind around me like a promise.

What the hell am I doing?

"Valentina,"

The sudden noise startles me. I turn on my heel with a sharp gasp.

Only to find myself face to face with him—his dark eyes locking onto mine, filled with a storm of emotions
promise, passion, forgiveness.. even heartbreak.

"W-what are you doing in here" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, he steps forward his confident aura pinning me to the edge of the sink.

"Doesn't seem like you're using the restroom," he says softly, but there's still a hardness behind his words.

"I-I needed space," he hums, stepping forward not caring how I'm already pushed up against the sink.

"You've had space," Bringing his mouth to my ear, he whispers "What now, Valentina?" He's so close I can feel the heat radiating off his skin.

My hands grip the edge of the sink, grounding myself against the whirlwind he brings just by nearing me.

I open my mouth to speak, to lie, to push him away with something cold and rehearsed — but nothing comes out.

"I don't know what u want me to say," I finally breathe.

He leans in, just enough for his words to brush against my skin "I don't want u to say anything you don't mean, understand?" .

staring up into his dark eyes I shift, but his hands reaches out — not grabbing, not forcing, just resting on the counter beside mine, close enough to touch.

"I think about you," he says, his voice low "More than I should, even when I'm trying not to" I open my mouth to speak but he hushes me by placing his hand on top of mine.

"I hate that you still get to me, I just can't fucking leave you alone, Val." Silence settles between us, thick with everything we're thinking, with everything be just said.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes dropping to my lips just long enough to make my breath catch.

"U shouldn't be in here," I whisper softly "I know" he argues back, neither of us move.

His hand shifts, his grip tightening on mine. I should step back. I know I should. But instead, I stay glued in place, drawn to him like gravity.

My gaze flickers down to his lips, and that's all it takes. His breath hitches, and something in his expression breaks — darkens.

"Say you don't want this," he says quietly, almost pleading. "Say it, and I'll walk away right now and go back to yearning silently for you."

My silence is all the answer he needs.

Quickly, he raises his hand, brushing a strand of hair away from my face with a tenderness that makes my whole body still.

"We shouldn't still feel this way," I mutter softly, "but we do," he protests. There's one last beat of hesitation between us, one final chance for either of us to run. But neither of us move.

Then, finally, his lips find mine.