Page 65 of First Echo

She laughed again, the sound warming me more effectively than any heater could. "You're awfully full of yourself for someone who wears the same three hoodies on rotation."

"You're awfully judgmental for someone who thought North Dakota was made up until last semester," I fired back without thinking.

Madeline burst into laughter—real, open, unfiltered laughter that seemed to light her up from the inside out. It wasn't the controlled, practiced laugh she used at school. This was something raw and genuine, unguarded in a way I'd rarely seen her.

I couldn't help but watch her—the way her head tilted back, the way her body shook with mirth, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners. The lamp cast a warm glow across her skin, turning her hair golden against the pillow we now shared. She didn't hold back for once, didn't seem to care how she looked or sounded. This wasn't the carefully controlled Madeline who navigated school hallways like she owned them. This wassomeone real, someone unguarded, someone who laughed until she snorted softly and then covered her mouth, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"Did you just snort?" I asked, delighted by this unexpected crack in her perfect facade.

"No," she denied immediately, her cheeks flushing pink. "Absolutely not."

"You totally did," I insisted, grinning. “MadelineGraceHayes snorts when she laughs. Wait till the cheer squad hears about this."

She groaned, covering her face with her hands, laughing despite herself. "If you tell anyone, I'll deny it. And then I'll have to kill you."

The air between us felt charged, electric, as if the slightest movement might spark something dangerous. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, could feel the weight of something shifting between us. I'd never been so aware of another person's proximity, of the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, of the small space between her lips.

It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that one step forward would send me falling into something unknown, something that could either break me or set me free. I'd spent years building walls, keeping everyone at a safe distance. But with Madeline looking at me like that, those walls seemed paper-thin, ready to crumble at the slightest touch.

This was insane. She had a boyfriend. She was the MadelineGraceHayes, for god's sake— the girl who ran hot and cold, the girl who claimed she didn't want anything from me. Kissing her would be a catastrophic mistake.

But I couldn't remember why that mattered anymore, not with her looking at me like she'd never really seen me before, like I was something surprising and precious and terrifying all at once.

The realization hit me with shocking clarity: I wanted to kiss her. I'd wanted to kiss her since that night she walked in on me changing, maybe even before that. I wanted to know if her lips were as soft as they looked, if she tasted like the expensive lip gloss she always wore, if she would make that same small gasp I'd heard when I'd leaned too close while fastening her necklace.

Her laughter had subsided almost completely now, but the smile remained, softening her features. She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting mine fully across the pillow, illuminated by the lamp's golden glow and somehow more striking than I'd ever seen them.

"What?" she asked, noticing my stare, her voice barely above a whisper.

I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. The words wouldn't come, trapped somewhere between my racing thoughts and my hammering heart.

Instead, I leaned in and kissed her.

It was a terrible idea. I knew it even as I was doing it. But I couldn't stop myself, couldn't fight the gravitational pull that had been drawing me toward her from the moment she'd walked in on me that night, maybe even before.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative. Just the gentle press of my lips against hers, a question more than a demand. But then she made a small sound—somewhere between a gasp and a sigh—and suddenly everything shifted.

The kiss deepened, her mouth opening to mine like she'd been waiting for this too, like she'd been thinking about it as long as I had. Warmth bloomed between us, spreading through my body like wildfire. My hand found her waist, fingers curling into the fabric of her sleep shirt, pulling her closer.

Madeline kissed me back with an intensity that matched my own, her fingers tangling in my hair, her body arching slightly toward mine. For one perfect, endless moment, the worldnarrowed to just this—the soft press of her lips, the warmth of her skin, the feeling that I'd finally found something I hadn't known I was looking for.

Then, abruptly, she pulled back. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes wide with something like panic as she stared at me in the darkness.

"I—I can't," she whispered, her voice breaking on the words.

Before I could respond, before I could process what was happening, she was scrambling out of the bed, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. She grabbed something—her phone, maybe—from the nightstand and headed for the door.

"Madeline—wait," I called, following her, heart hammering against my ribs. "Please, wait—"

But the door shut behind her with a quiet click, leaving me standing alone in the middle of our room, the ghost of her lips still burning against mine.

I stood frozen for a moment, staring at the empty space where she'd just been. Then, slowly, the reality of what I'd done began to sink in. I'd kissed MadelineGraceHayes. I'd kissed a girl who had a boyfriend, who'd made it clear she wasn't sure what she wanted, who'd just run away like I'd burned her.

"What have I done," I whispered, running my hands through my hair, a deep breath shuddering through me like it might tear my chest open.

The silence that followed was deafening, pressing in from all sides, heavy with the weight of my mistake. I'd ruined whatever tentative friendship we'd been building, crossed a line I couldn't uncross. And for what? A moment of weakness, of giving in to something I shouldn't have wanted in the first place?

I sank onto the edge of my bed, mind racing through potential damage control. Should I leave? Find somewhere else to sleep tonight? Would she tell someone what happened? Would—

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