Mia couldn’t stop thinking about Jax.
Two weeks had passed since that night against the wall, and every single day felt like a slow burn. She would catch herself staring at the shared wall between their apartments, wondering if he was home. Wondering if he was thinking about her the way she was thinking about him.
They didn’t talk during the day. No texts, no casual hellos in the hallway. It was like an unspoken rule. But almost every night, around 1 or 2 a.m., she would hear the soft knock on her door.
And every time, she opened it.
Tonight was no different.
Mia had just stepped out of the shower, hair still damp, wearing only an oversized t-shirt that barely covered her ass. The knock came — three quiet taps. Her heart jumped. She didn’t even check the peephole anymore. She knew it
