Chapter 31 Sly's face lights up when he sees the pastry, and I'm glad he likes it. Not just because I didn't mess up with my choice, but because it makes him look like a kid again. Unburdened. Uncomplicated. Like life hasn't taken chunks out of him, too, and left the scars behind to prove it. I didn't know I needed to see that look until it showed up. And now I can't tear my eyes away. And for one perfect moment, there's no noise. No past. No audience, despite the two teen girls taking surreptitious pics of us from near the ice cream truck. There's just him and me and a pastry that smells like sugar and looks like sunshine. Sly reaches for it slowly, like it's sacred. And when our fingers touch, something warm and soft sparks between us. It's electric. Powerful. Real. All of which means I should be hauling ass for the exit. Because if the last decade has taught me anything, it's that real is dangerous. Real can hurt you. Real can break you. But I don't run. Instead, I sit back down and wait to see what happens next. "Have you ever had one?" he asks after a second. I shake my head. "No. But it smells delicious." "It is. And it's yellow-much better than the pink ones abuela Ximena sent you." My stomach drops. "Is that what was in the bakery box we left at the Willow? A present from your abuela?" "Indeed. One that might or might not have been wrapped in Sloane Walker-printed tissue paper." My mouth drops open. "There's no such thing." "Oh, yes there is. Also, Sloane Walker wrapping paper, duct tape, coffee mugs, and even slippers. Abuela has them all." "You mean like spider slippers? Because I have some of those and they are so comfortable-" "No." He shakes his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Sloane slippers. Your face is the front part, and then-" "I don't want to know," I tell him, caught halfway between amusement and horror. "The merch world is a wild place," he says with a waggle of his brows that makes me giggle when I never giggle. His eyes go wide. "Was that a-" "Nope, absolutely not," I cut him off. Then, to get the subject off my very out-of-character laughter, I ask, "Are there Sly slippers out there?" He shakes his head. "If there are, I have no knowledge of them." "Now I know what I'm going to be looking for after tonight's show," I tease. Who am I? And why am I having so much fun? "This is not a war you want to start," he warns. "I can promise you there's way weirder Sloane Walker merch out there than anything you might find for me." "Maybe so." I shrug. "But Etsy's a big place." His eyes narrow. "Is that a challenge?" "It's an observation," I answer, pulling off a small bite of the concha and popping it in my mouth. "Observation, my ass." This time when he smiles, there's an edge of wickedness to it that does all kinds of interesting things to my insides. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." "Oh, wow! Quite the tyrant when it comes to competition." "I like to consider myself a strategist," he shoots back before taking a much larger bite of the pastry. "I was talking about myself." He laughs then, loud and open and wild in the best possible way. He looks so good that I don't even care that it's the money shot, the one that'll be spread like wildfire across social media before we can make it back to our respective hotels. We continue eating our dessert while teasing each other about more and more outrageous merch. I try to drag it out by eating the tiniest bites possible. I wasn't sure I wanted to come on this date to begin with, but now I don't want it to end. Too soon, though, the concha is done and Sly is picking up the last of the trash. "I need to text Marco," I tell him. "Let him know where to meet me-" "Are you ready to go?" he asks, and though he sounds fine with it, there's a disappointment in the depths of his eyes that makes my stomach flip half a dozen times. "I thought you were ready," I blurt out, gesturing to the trash in his hand. Sly shakes his head. "I'm just getting prepared for the next part of our date." "There's another part?" "If you want there to be," he answers, nodding toward the observatory. "You up for a little stargazing?" What is it about this man that makes him see things before I share them? I've loved stargazing since I was a child, though I've never told anyone about it. It's one of the things I miss most when I'm on tour, when I'm always in cities where the lights are too bright to see the stars. Trust Sly to find a way to give me something I love when I'd never in a million years think to ask for it. We toss our trash, then head out of the food truck area toward the observatory. His hand brushes mine as we walk under the trees, so I take a risk and reach for it. He grins down at me as our palms slide together, fingers intertwining like the first notes of a song, uncertain but full of promise. All around us, Griffith Park stretches out, golden and glittery in the late-afternoon sunlight. Sly and I don't say much as we wind our way up the hill. But the silence between us isn't empty. It's filled with the magic of conversations yet to come. And when the white dome of the observatory finally comes into view, anticipation curls in my stomach. Sly and the stars in the same time and space as me? Yes, please. "The show starts in a few minutes," he says as we walk through the front doors. "We should probably find our seats." I follow him into the theater, nerves creeping in as I worry about who we'll end up sitting next to and whether or not they'll recognize one of us. But Sly leads me to the back row of what turns out to be an empty theater, and as the final five minutes before the show tick down, I realize only a few other people have joined us. But they're sitting in the front row and haven't so much as glanced our way. "What did you do?" I ask, heart thumping like a metronome on high. "Bought every ticket that wasn't already sold," he answers, lips quirking up at the corners. "I figured you'd enjoy it more if you didn't have to worry." My breath catches in my throat. What am I supposed to do about this guy? What's the point of having walls if he keeps sneaking around them in the most thoughtful ways imaginable? I manage to choke out a thank-you as the lights come down around us. And then the room explodes with images of galaxies millions of miles away. I shiver at the thrill of it all as down in front the live narrator starts explaining the mystery of what we're looking at. "You cold?" Sly whispers, shifting so I can cuddle into his warmth if I want. I like the way he offers. No pressure and no expectations. Just the steady, quiet presence that permeates every interaction we have. So even though I'm not cold, I lean into him anyway, and immediately, everything inside of me exhales. He smells like sandalwood and citrus and feels like sun-warmed stone. Solid. Real. Safe. Above us, galaxies bloom into existence and constellations drift past like glitter on the wind. Below them, I sit beside this man who feels like gravity-strong enough to anchor me. Gentle enough to let me fly. His arm brushes against my shoulders. My hair dances over his fingertips. Our legs softly touch. Until the space between us feels electric. Incandescent. Like starlight trapped in the time between one heartbeat and the next. Everything in me tuned to everything in him. I don't know what makes me turn. Maybe it's the colors swirling around us or the sound of his breathing, gentle and steady in the darkness. Maybe it's the ache deep inside me, low and warm and hurting in all the right ways. Or maybe, just maybe, it's the little voice whispering that if I don't move now, if I don't grab onto this moment, I'll miss something that could change everything. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time, and on another day with another man, I'd never take the risk. But this is Sly, who looks at me like I'm as infinite as the universe spinning out above our heads. So I do it. I turn, only to find he's already watching me. And the look in his eyes isn't a question. It's a promise, one I want so desperately to believe in. So for the second time today, but for a very different reason, I lean into him and brush his lips with mine. In "A Relationship Kept in The Dark" by CrushReel, the storyline unfolds as renowned photographer Jane finds herself drawn to the charismatic rookie model, Hector. Little does she know that Hector harbors a secret—he is actually the heir to a powerful business empire. As their romance blossoms, Hector grapples with concealing his true identity to capture Jane's heart. However, their love story takes a tumultuous turn when jealousy rears its ugly head, threatening to unravel the delicate balance they've built. This modern romance novel delves into themes of hidden identities, unexpected love, and the complexities of maintaining a relationship shrouded in secrecy. With its blend of sweet romance and suspenseful twists, "A Relationship Kept in The Dark" stands out for its exploration of hidden feelings and the consequences of revealing long-held secrets. For readers seeking a captivating tale that combines elements of romance, intrigue, and emotional depth, this ongoing story is available to read at CrushReel. Immerse yourself in the world of Jane and Hector as their journey unfolds against the backdrop of hidden truths and heartfelt revelations.