To like someone

I spot Leona seated at a small table in the dessert shop, her gaze lost in thought as she absentmindedly twirls her fork through a colorful slice of cake. The sight makes my chest tighten, and I can't help but feel a thrill of anticipation as I approach. I take a seat opposite her, and she looks up, startled, as if she's just emerged from a daydream.

"Oh, Zane, you're already here?" she exclaims, her voice a mixture of surprise and something else—was that guilt? Her brown eyes, the bane of my existence, capture my attention and hold it hostage.

"I was nearby," I shrug, trying to sound casual even as my heart races. Some fleeting emotion crosses her face—maybe joy or relief—but it vanishes too quickly for me to pinpoint.

"Anyway, what's on the menu?" I say, gesturing toward the cake on her plate, desperate to steer the conversation away from whatever unspoken tension lingers between us.

She looks down at the slice, her expression lighting up with delight. With a twinkle in her eye, she takes a bite, and an unexpected moan escapes her lips. The sound is intimate, the kind that feels like it should be reserved for private moments, private moments with me, rather than this public space. I mentally chastise myself for letting my thoughts spiral, but it's hard not to when she leans over and offers me a piece with her fork.

"I swear the chef must have sprinkled fairy dust on this," she laughs, and the sound is like music to my ears. My resolve starts to waver as I watch her. Her genuine enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget all the chaos swirling around us.

I lean forward, taking the piece from her fork, our fingers brushing against each other for just a second longer than necessary. The cake melts in my mouth—sweet, just like the moment we're sharing.

"Okay, I'll give it to you; this is incredible," I admit, my tone light, but there's an undercurrent of something deeper.

"See? I told you!" she grins, the corners of her mouth curling up in that way that makes my heart skip a beat. The tension that had filled the air moments ago seems to dissipate, replaced by a comfortable rhythm of conversation as we dig into the cake together, each bite bringing us closer.

We spend the next hour sampling different desserts—each one better than the last—and sharing stories from our pasts. It's refreshing to hear Leona open up, her laughter ringing in the air like a sweet melody. I find myself leaning in closer, enchanted by her words, the way her eyes sparkle when she talks about her dreams and ambitions.

As the day unfolds, we explore the floating city together, wandering through the vibrant markets filled with eclectic stalls selling everything from exotic spices to shimmering trinkets. Leona's enthusiasm is contagious; she drags me from one shop to the next, her eyes lighting up with every discovery. I can't help but smile as I watch her, the way she interacts with the vendors and the genuine joy radiating from her.

We stop by a small gallery showcasing local artists, and I watch her gaze in awe at the breathtaking artwork.

"This one speaks to me," she murmurs, pointing to a vivid painting of a starry sky that seems to shimmer with life.

"It's beautiful," I agree, stepping closer to her. "Just like you."

Her head snaps toward me, surprise etched on her face. The moment hangs in the air, charged with unspoken feelings, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words spill out before I can stop them.

"Thanks, Zane," she replies softly, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. "That means a lot."

**

I stand beside Leona, watching as the crew loads the last of our supplies onto the cargo ship. The hum of machinery fills the air, but my attention keeps slipping back to her. I don't regret spending the day with her, not even for a second, though I know full well my original plan was to spend it tangled up with Melissa in some hotel room. Funny how things change.

Leona is standing a few feet away, lost in her own world, oblivious to the fact that she's consuming my thoughts. She's always been able to do that, without even trying—get under my skin and take over my mind without permission. I can't help but stare at her now, the way her hair catches the soft light from the loading dock, the way she absentmindedly bites her lip while scrolling through her intercom display. A small, unbidden smile creeps onto my face. Is this what it feels like to like someone?

Damn, what a bother.

The problem is, I don't just like Leona. It's something deeper—something messier. I'm used to control, to keeping my emotions locked away behind walls I built years ago, but with her, those walls seem to crumble. It's terrifying. But it's also intoxicating.

"What?" Leona asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. Her brow furrows slightly as she looks at me, curiosity in her eyes. I must have been staring too long.

"You're so beautiful," I say, the words softer than I intend.

Leona rolls her eyes, brushing off the compliment like it's nothing, but I know she underestimates just how devastatingly beautiful she is. It's not just her looks—it's the way she carries herself, the way she can command a room without saying a word, the way her laugh can light up a dark moment. And hell, she has no idea the effect she has on me.

"Shut up, Zane," she says, grinning, but there's a hint of pink coloring her cheeks.

Before I can respond, the last of the cargo is finally loaded, and it's time to board. We climb into the ship, the door hissing shut behind us as the engines hum to life. The vessel is nothing special—a cargo ship designed for utility, not comfort. I settle into one of the stiff, worn-out seats and buckle up. It's a far cry from the luxury I'm used to, and for a moment, the absurdity of the situation hits me. Me, Zane, on a cargo ship. It's enough to make me chuckle under my breath.

Leona slides into the seat next to me, buckling her belt with a practiced ease. I glance at her, and even though the seat is nothing more than a metal contraption with barely-there padding, she somehow manages to look elegant, graceful even. The rest of the staff finds their seats around us, chatting softly amongst themselves. For them, this is routine—just another day on the job. For me, it feels like something else entirely.

The ship begins to rumble as it powers up, ready to tear through the stars and take us to Aurelia. I stare out the small window next to me, watching as the lights of the spaceport fade into the background, replaced by the vast expanse of space. A million pinpricks of light twinkle against the black void, stars that we'll soon be passing by in a blur.

Beside me, Leona shifts in her seat, her presence grounding me in the moment. I glance at her again, wondering if she feels the same pull between us. But Leona is Leona—steady, unfazed, always on her own wavelength. I wish I could crawl inside her mind for just a moment, to know what she's thinking, to understand her in a way that I haven't been able to yet.

"First time on a cargo ship?" Leona asks, breaking the comfortable silence. There's a teasing edge to her voice.

I smirk. "Yeah, actually. Not exactly my usual mode of transport."

She laughs, and it's a sound that makes my chest tighten, in the best way. "It's not so bad. At least we're getting to Aurelia, right? You'll survive."

I lean back in my seat, feeling the vibration of the engines beneath me as the ship begins to ascend. "Yeah, I'll survive," I say, glancing at her again, my voice softer than before. "As long as you're with me."

Leona doesn't respond immediately, but the way her lips twitch upward lets me know she heard me. Maybe she's finally starting to understand how much she means to me. Or maybe I'm just imagining it. Either way, as we soar into the depths of space, I can't help but feel that being here, with her, is exactly where I need to be.