He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, if you want to put it back, put it back. If you want to keep it, keep it. Just don’t freak out about it, okay?”

“I’m not freaking out.”

His brow lifted. “Your face says otherwise.”

I huffed. “Excuse me for being caught off guard by the fact that you’ve been secretly hoarding a picture of me.”

Blake let out a soft laugh. “It’s not that deep, B.”

But something in his voice said it was. The Polaroid suddenly felt impossibly warm between my fingers.

My pulse thrummed in my ears.

Blake watched me carefully. “You gonna stand there all night, or…?”

Shaking my head, I managed, “I should go.”

He hummed, his gaze lingering on me for a second too long. “Yeah,” he said softly, “you should.”

I should have left then. I should have walked out before I said something I couldn’t take back. I should have gone back to my room and pretended I hadn’t just found proof of something I’d been trying not to hope for. Instead, I stepped closer.

I wasn’t feeling like reading anymore.

And I definitely wasn’t feeling like sleeping.

Blake’s gaze was heavy on me, a quiet hum beneath my skin. He was waiting, arm still tucked behind his head, fingers idly tapping against the pillow.

The Polaroid still burned between my fingers, but I didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about why he kept it, why he looked at it, why the way he said it just felt right made something in me come undone.

I needed to do something. Something reckless. Something to shake this feeling loose before it swallowed me whole.

“Let’s go somewhere,” I blurted.

His brows furrowed as he cast a quick glance at the clock. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“So?” I shrugged. “Let’s do something reckless.”

I expected him to argue, or to roll his eyes and send me back to bed. But instead, he just said, “Define reckless.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, glancing toward the window. “I don’t know. Something that makes sense right now and will probably feel stupid in the morning.” I tossed the Polaroid onto his nightstand and crossed the room to his window, peering outside. The street was empty, bathed in the eerie glow of the flickering streetlamp. “Let’s drive.”

Blake sighed like he was already regretting humoring me, but then he pushed back the covers, rolling out of bed in one fluid motion. He didn’t even bother grabbing a shirt, just yanked on the nearest pair of jeans.

“Oh, the things I do for you,” he muttered, pushing me out of his room along with him. “If we get arrested, I’m blaming you.”

I smiled at the thought. “Deal.”