ndeniably attractive; it was something else. His presence lingered in her mind, like a melody she couldn't forget. O

the characters in her novel felt as distant as the man she couldn't stop thinking about. She sighed and decided to clear her mind with a walk.

Claire had always loved it there. It was the perfect spot to lose herself in her thoughts or in a book, far awa

piration. She had just begun to scribble down some ideas when she heard the door chime softly, signaling

as she debated whether or not to say something. Part of her wanted to remain invisible, to avoid any awkwar

eyes lighting up in recognition. A slow smile spr

e asked, his voice

mix of nervousness and excitement.

g out the chair across fro

ed, closing her noteboo

ographer, how he spent his days capturing moments that most people overlooked. He spoke with such passion, his eyes lighting up as he descri

sked, leaning forward sli

strangers – or, at least, people who had been strangers just days ago. But something ab

ice a little quieter than usual.

, intrigued. "A writer,

and of hair behind her ear. "I'm working on a n

always admired writers. It takes a lot of courage to put

s glamorous as it sounds. Most days, it's just me st

I'll go days without taking a single picture that I'm happy with,

ion flowing effortlessly between them. It was as if they had known each other for years, not just a few

ed out, Claire realized just how late it had gotten. She glan

bably go," she said, r

eemed just as hesitant to

ve them dotted with stars. For a moment, they stood in

a walk?" James asked, hi

but only for a sec

t. The conversation had slowed, but the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of si

d first met, James turned to face her. There was s

u, Claire," he said quiet

lf beginning to crumble. She didn't know what this was, or where it was going,

" she replied, her voice

e background as they shared a look that spoke of possibilities. And in tha