Selene's POV
It had been exactly two weeks since Antonio and I shifted into our new home, and it finally felt like ours. The scent of our favorite cinnamon candle lingered in the hallways, and the scatter of my sketches alongside his open laptop across the coffee table made it clear—we were building a life.
Tonight, it wasn't just about us.
Ayra and Eliot were coming over for a sleepover. A proper one. With junk food, wild games, movies we'd never finish, and secrets we'd probably overshare. Thanks to the national holiday tomorrow, we were all free. The moment the doorbell rang, Antonio beat me to the door, wearing a smug grin that mirrored the one Eliot gave as soon as he walked in, arms full of snacks.
Ayra followed, holding a small bag and flashing a grin that said trouble ahead.
"Where should I drop the chaos?" Eliot asked, lifting a huge tote of chips, soda, and… was that wine?
"The kitchen, obviously," I laughed. "Unless you want to use chips as pillows tonight."
Once we were all changed into cozy clothes—me in Antonio's oversized hoodie, Ayra in one of Eliot's button-ups we suspected she 'borrowed'—we gathered in the living room with dim lights, low music, and the night wide open ahead of us.
That's when Ayra said it.
"Let's play Truth or Dare. But the uncensored version."
Antonio choked on his cola. Eliot smirked. I gave Ayra a look, but secretly, I was thrilled.
First up: Antonio.
"Truth," he said, stretching his long legs and resting his arm behind me.
Ayra leaned in. "What's the wildest place you've imagined kissing Selene?"
Antonio raised a brow and turned to me with a sinful smirk. "Rooftop. In the rain. Against the railing. While she's in a white dress and I'm late to a meeting."
I turned red. Eliot whistled. Ayra fanned herself.
"Okay okay, Selene's turn," Eliot said quickly. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth," I mumbled.
"First impression of Antonio," Ayra asked, eyes twinkling.
I laughed. "You'd already asked this in our previous Truth or dares, right?but still I'll repeat it , so,I thought he walked like a hero from a movie. Tall, silent, dangerous. Like some life-savior who'd show up just when everything went wrong. And then he actually did."
Antonio gave me the look—the intense one—and whispered, "And I never stopped."
I needed water. Cold water.
Round after round passed, each more daring than the last. Ayra had to call Eliot by a ridiculously romantic nickname. Eliot had to whisper something naughty to Ayra that made her giggle uncontrollably.
When it came back to Antonio again, he grinned. "Dare."
Ayra smirked. "Kiss Selene like you mean it."
And oh, he did.
His hand curled around my waist as he pulled me close, the kiss long, deep, and lingering. The room blurred. I vaguely heard Eliot mutter, "Should we look away or take notes?"
We didn't stop laughing, teasing, blushing until well past midnight.
Eventually, Ayra and Eliot cuddled up on the guest couch, wrapped in a blanket, murmuring secrets.
Antonio and I snuck away to our bedroom. But even as we closed the door behind us, I could still hear Ayra giggling and Eliot whispering something about how they should totally make this a tradition.
And I couldn't help but smile. Because in this home, in this life, we were building more than just careers or dreams—we were weaving moments like these, with people we'd never want to lose.
Next Day
Sunlight streamed softly into the room, tracing golden lines over the ivory walls. I woke with a slow stretch, feeling Antonio's arms tighten around me before he murmured a sleepy "morning" against my hair. His warmth was addictive, but a loud clang from downstairs shattered our peaceful bubble.
"That better not be Ayra trying to cook again," Antonio mumbled.
I chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Let's go save the kitchen."
We slipped into cozy clothes and padded downstairs. The scent of coffee was strong—but it was competing with something… suspiciously charred.
"Morning, lovebirds," Eliot called from the counter, looking far too awake as he leaned back with a mug in hand. "Sleep well? You sure moaned a lot… must've been having deep dreams."
My cheeks flared instantly. "That was—Antonio dropped his phone!"
"On the carpet?" Ayra asked innocently, flipping a pancake with questionable technique.
Antonio gave her a look. "You sure that pan's safe in your hands?"
"Safer than leaving you two unsupervised," she quipped, grinning over her shoulder.
We settled around the kitchen island with coffee and laughter filling the space. Antonio casually wrapped his arm around my waist as he handed me a mug. Ayra leaned into Eliot, her head resting lightly on his shoulder as he served eggs—surprisingly better than the pancakes.
"Okay," Ayra said mid-bite, "I have a genius idea."
"Oh no," I teased. "Here we go."
"Me and Eliot are thinking of house-hunting," she grinned. "But like... next door. Imagine it! Morning coffee together, borrowing sugar, crashing at each other's place whenever we feel like it."
Eliot nodded. "We're not freeloaders, promise. Just love your coffee machine."
Antonio laughed. "It'd be dangerous having you two next door. We'd never get peace."
"Speak for yourself," I said, already picturing cozy mornings and late-night talks. "I love the idea."
"Let's build a walkway between the houses," Ayra added. "Or like, a secret tunnel. Dramatic but functional."
We all burst into laughter.
"But seriously," Eliot said, turning sincere for a second, "this feels like the start of something… really good."
There was a quiet beat as we all looked around—the half-eaten breakfast, our comfy clothes, the warmth in the room. It was chaotic, but it felt like home. Even if we weren't all living under the same roof, we were building lives that would keep overlapping in the best ways.
Antonio looked at me with a softness that melted everything inside me. "One day, I want every morning to start just like this—with you, pancakes or not."
"And with us next door, obviously," Ayra added, raising her juice in a toast.
We all clinked our glasses, laughter filling the room again. This morning wasn't just about teasing or breakfast—it was about future plans wrapped in lighthearted jokes and honest affection.
A home wasn't just walls and bricks. It was mornings like this, hearts tangled in shared moments.