I laugh, shaking my head as I watch her sit back, her eyes gleaming over my setup, her excitement still in the air between us.

And I realize I like this. I like her here, in my space. Talking about a future that includes me in it. Even if it’s just as a gaming partner.

She’s still talking about the game, still lost in whatever strategy she’s already forming in her head, still acting like last night was just some fever dream we all woke up from.

Maybe for her, it was. Maybe she’s already compartmentalized it, shoved it into some box in her mind labeled “Fun, Hot, Insane Night—But Nothing More.”

I can’t do that. I can’t sit here, watching her light up about playing together when she gets home, knowing I might just be her gaming partner after this.

Because I want more, more than last night. More than a screen between us. More than just being the safe option next to my reckless, chaotic brother.

I clear my throat, shifting in my chair, watching the way she spins my mouse between her fingers, completely unaware of the storm building in my chest. “Haven.”

She glances at me, still half-distracted. “Yeah?”

I hesitate. Because what the fuck am I even asking for? A label? No. That’s not me. Some kind of commitment? Way too fucking soon. But something real, something that tells me she’s not just gonna walk out of here and forget about this. Forget about me. I exhale. “Is this… more for you?”

She stills. Her fingers go slack against the mouse, her lips parting slightly, her eyes flicking to mine like she wasn’t expecting the question. Fuck, I wasn’t either.

She hesitates, her fingers twitching slightly where they rest on her lap, and I know whatever she’s about to say is something she’s been holding onto for a long time. I brace myself.

She exhales. “I’ve been burnt before, Carter.”

My stomach tightens, my fingers flexing against my knee, yeah, I fucking know. I know about the ex. The guy she was dating right when I first started talking to her, the one who treated her like she was something to be handled rather than fucking cherished. I never pried, never asked more than she was willing to share, but I caught every single piece she did give me. And I hated him.

Her eyes fall down for a second before she meets mine again, something cautious but sure sitting there. “I hate labels.”

I nod once, silent, letting her say what she needs to say.