Almost Love, Then Everything - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
You are reading Almost Love, Then Everything, Chapter 15: Chapter 15. Read more chapters of Almost Love, Then Everything.
("It wasn’t a kiss. Not yet. But it was something dangerously close to it.")
They were in Jade’s apartment again—another quiet evening, another “I’ll stay for just an hour” that turned into four.
Leah was helping Jade hang a new canvas, her arms above her head as she measured the space between nails, a pencil tucked behind her ear. Jade stood beside her, holding the level, close enough that their shoulders brushed every time Leah adjusted her grip.
It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.
But every time their skin met, even briefly, the air changed. Grew warmer. Denser. Like the whole room was holding its breath.
Jade leaned in to check the alignment.
Her fingers accidentally grazed Leah’s hand.
They both froze.
Just for a second.
Neither moved.
Leah’s breath caught. Her heart stumbled. Her eyes flicked to Jade’s—and Jade’s were already on her, open and unreadable, but heavy with something unnamed.
Then, slowly, deliberately, Jade didn’t pull away.
Her hand stayed right there—light on Leah’s, fingers just barely overlapping.
The silence between them bloomed.
Leah didn’t know whether to speak or to step away. She didn’t know if she wanted to step away. The warmth of Jade’s hand was too soft, too real, too wanted.
So she stayed.
One second.
Two.
Three heartbeats.
Then Jade whispered, “Leah.”
And Leah whispered, “Yes?”
But Jade didn’t say anything after that.
She just looked at her like she was trying to memorize her face.
Like maybe she’d been waiting for this moment a long time.
A car honked outside, snapping them both back.
They stepped away at the same time.
Jade coughed. Leah smoothed her shirt like it had wrinkled. Neither looked directly at the other for a few seconds, pretending the air hadn’t just thickened like honey between them.
But it had.
And they both knew it.
Later, as Leah slipped her shoes on at the door, Jade stood nearby, hands tucked in her hoodie pockets—Leah’s hoodie now. The one she still hadn’t returned.
They didn’t say goodbye with words that night.
Just a long look.
Just a smile that trembled at the edges.
Just a touch that lasted a beat too long.
Sometimes, falling isn’t a crash.
It’s a brush.
A breath.
A moment so quiet,
You almost don’t hear it happen—
Until you realize you’ve already landed.
They were in Jade’s apartment again—another quiet evening, another “I’ll stay for just an hour” that turned into four.
Leah was helping Jade hang a new canvas, her arms above her head as she measured the space between nails, a pencil tucked behind her ear. Jade stood beside her, holding the level, close enough that their shoulders brushed every time Leah adjusted her grip.
It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.
But every time their skin met, even briefly, the air changed. Grew warmer. Denser. Like the whole room was holding its breath.
Jade leaned in to check the alignment.
Her fingers accidentally grazed Leah’s hand.
They both froze.
Just for a second.
Neither moved.
Leah’s breath caught. Her heart stumbled. Her eyes flicked to Jade’s—and Jade’s were already on her, open and unreadable, but heavy with something unnamed.
Then, slowly, deliberately, Jade didn’t pull away.
Her hand stayed right there—light on Leah’s, fingers just barely overlapping.
The silence between them bloomed.
Leah didn’t know whether to speak or to step away. She didn’t know if she wanted to step away. The warmth of Jade’s hand was too soft, too real, too wanted.
So she stayed.
One second.
Two.
Three heartbeats.
Then Jade whispered, “Leah.”
And Leah whispered, “Yes?”
But Jade didn’t say anything after that.
She just looked at her like she was trying to memorize her face.
Like maybe she’d been waiting for this moment a long time.
A car honked outside, snapping them both back.
They stepped away at the same time.
Jade coughed. Leah smoothed her shirt like it had wrinkled. Neither looked directly at the other for a few seconds, pretending the air hadn’t just thickened like honey between them.
But it had.
And they both knew it.
Later, as Leah slipped her shoes on at the door, Jade stood nearby, hands tucked in her hoodie pockets—Leah’s hoodie now. The one she still hadn’t returned.
They didn’t say goodbye with words that night.
Just a long look.
Just a smile that trembled at the edges.
Just a touch that lasted a beat too long.
Sometimes, falling isn’t a crash.
It’s a brush.
A breath.
A moment so quiet,
You almost don’t hear it happen—
Until you realize you’ve already landed.
End of Almost Love, Then Everything Chapter 15. Continue reading Chapter 16 or return to Almost Love, Then Everything book page.