Three months later, they had been dating for three months, and everything was going well.
More than well, actually.
It still felt a little unreal sometimes, in the quiet moments between classes or when Aliyah woke up with a smile already tugging at her mouth because she remembered Scarlett's last message from the night before.
Somewhere along the way, what had started as flirting sharp enough to cut had become something steadier, warmer, and much more dangerous to Aliyah's heart.
They had at least one or two dates every week. Sometimes fancy dinners, because Scarlett liked pretending she was not secretly excellent at that sort of thing.
Sometimes walks through the city after dark, stopping for sweet pastries or wine or just standing too close under lantern-light while Aliyah tried to act normal and failed beautifully.
Sometimes it was simpler than that, just studying together, sitting pressed side by side in the library or on a bench in the academy gardens, stealing soft kisses between conversations about magic, family, futures.
They kissed a lot.
They cuddled too, which Aliyah had not expected to become one of her favorite things. Scarlett, for all her swagger and tattoos and devastating confidence, was warm.
Over the last three months, Aliyah had learned the exact weight of Scarlett's arm around her waist, the lazy pleased sound Scarlett made when Aliyah played with her hair.
They had also gotten to know each other more deeply.
Scarlett was messier than she liked to admit, especially when she was cooking. Aliyah had discovered that through a scandalous amount of flour on one sleeve during a breakfast attempt that ended with Scarlett accusing the kitchen of sabotage.
Scarlett had learned that Aliyah got dramatic when stressed and could talk herself into a panic if left alone with too many possibilities.
And today, Scarlett had invited Aliyah to her apartment.
Which should have been fine.
Normal, even.
Except it was not fine, because the second Aliyah had told Kaelith about it, her cousin had leaned back in her chair with the expression of a woman watching a candle approach dry curtains and said, with criminal calm, "That sounds like sex."
Since then, Aliyah had not known peace.
Now, standing outside Scarlett's apartment door with her pulse doing something illegal in her chest, Aliyah wanted to go back in time and slap Kaelith. Hard.
She adjusted the sleeves of her top for the tenth time and tried to breathe like a sane person.
Maybe it was not about sex.
Maybe it was just dinner.
Maybe Kaelith was projecting because Kaelith projected on principle.
Then again, maybe Kaelith was right, and Aliyah was about to walk into an evening that changed things.
Aliyah had kissed Scarlett until her knees felt weak. She had sat in Scarlett's lap. She had let Scarlett's hands roam just enough to leave her warm and flustered and wanting more. But this…
This was different.
Aliyah had never had sex before.
And she was trying very hard not to spiral about that.
Before she could overthink herself straight off the doorstep, she knocked.
A second later the door opened.
And there was Scarlett.
Looking fucking hot.
Aliyah forgot at least half the vocabulary she had spent years collecting.
Scarlett had changed out of her academy clothes into a dark fitted shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants slung low on her hips, and no shoes, just dark socks against the wooden floor.
Her purple hair was slightly loose around her face, one black eye and one red eye warming the moment they landed on Aliyah.
There was something dangerously domestic and dangerously attractive about her like this, like the universe had taken everything unfair about her and added dinner lighting.
Scarlett smiled.
"Come in," she said. "I'm almost finished with cooking. Do you want a drink?"
Aliyah stepped inside and tried to look like she entered beautiful women's apartments all the time without feeling like her soul had left her body.
"Sure," she managed.
Scarlett's apartment suited her in strange, perfect ways. It was cleaner than Aliyah had expected but not polished to the point of impersonality. Warm lighting. Dark wood. A few books stacked carelessly near the sofa. Weapons mounted neatly on one wall because, of course, Scarlett decorated like a woman prepared for both romance and violence.
There was a low table by the window, a long couch with a dark blanket thrown over one side, and the faint rich smell of cooking drifting from the kitchen.
Aliyah set down the small dessert she had brought and glanced toward the stove. "You really cooked."
Scarlett looked over her shoulder from the kitchen and smirked. "You sound surprised."
"I'm choosing not to mention the flour disaster from last month."
"That was one time."
"That was seven times in one breakfast."
Scarlett laughed softly. "Drink's on the counter, princess."
The use of the nickname no longer shocked Aliyah the way it had in the beginning, but it still did things to her nervous system she chose not to examine too closely.
She moved to the counter, found a glass already waiting for her, and tried not to smile too much at the quiet care in that.
Dinner was good.
No, dinner was really good.
Annoyingly good.
Aliyah had expected decent effort, maybe charm carrying the rest. Instead Scarlett had made food that was actually excellent, rich and warm and spiced just right.
Aliyah told her so after the second bite, and Scarlett tried to act casual about the praise for all of four seconds before obviously preening.
"You like it?" Scarlett asked.
Aliyah looked up from her plate. "I'm genuinely irritated by how good this is."
Scarlett grinned. "That's the reaction I was hoping for."
They ate slowly, talking between bites. Scarlett told a story about nearly starting a fire in her first week living alone because she had been too proud to ask where the good pans were sold.
Aliyah laughed so hard she had to set down her fork. In return, Aliyah admitted she had spent twenty minutes choosing an outfit tonight and then lied to herself about why.
Scarlett's eyes sparkled.
"Only twenty?"
Aliyah pointed at her with her glass. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything," Scarlett said.
That answer was suspicious enough to make Aliyah's stomach dip.
After dinner they cleaned up together, which somehow felt even more intimate than eating had. Scarlett washed, Aliyah dried.
Their hands brushed once, then twice. Scarlett kissed Aliyah's temple while passing behind her with two plates, as if she could not resist. Aliyah pretended not to melt visibly.
Then they moved to the sofa.
The room had gone softer somehow. Or maybe that was just Aliyah.
Scarlett sat first, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, and Aliyah lowered herself beside her with a calm she did not feel.
The cushions sank, their thighs touched, and that alone sent awareness skittering through her.
For a moment they just looked at each other.
Three months.
Three months of dates and laughter and slow-building tension and affection that had gone from sharp to deep without losing any of its heat.
Scarlett lifted a hand and brushed a strand of black hair back from Aliyah's face.
"You're quiet," she murmured.
Aliyah smiled faintly. "You make me quiet sometimes."
Scarlett's expression softened. "I didn't know that was possible."
"Very funny."
Scarlett leaned in and kissed her.
It started small. Familiar. Soft lips, warm and slow, the kind of kiss that made Aliyah's shoulders loosen even when the rest of her went tense with anticipation.
She kissed back immediately, letting herself lean into Scarlett's side.
Scarlett made that low pleased sound Aliyah loved and kissed her again, longer this time. Then again.
Aliyah shifted closer without thinking. Scarlett's hand settled at her waist, thumb moving once over the fabric there, and the simple tenderness of it almost hurt.
The kiss deepened by degrees, not rushed, not careless. Scarlett always kissed like she meant it, like she was paying attention to every response Aliyah gave her.
Which was exactly why Aliyah gasped when Scarlett's mouth left hers and traced slowly along her jaw.
Then lower.
A kiss just beneath her ear.
Another at the side of her neck.
Aliyah's fingers caught in Scarlett's shirt instantly.
Scarlett smiled against her skin, and Aliyah could feel the smile more than see it.
"Still with me?" Scarlett asked softly.
Aliyah's answer came out breathless. "Yes."
Scarlett kissed her neck again, slower this time, one hand still steady at her waist while the other slid up into her hair.
Aliyah tipped her head back, pulse racing so hard she was sure Scarlett could feel it under her lips.
The room seemed smaller now. Warmer. The soft light, the quiet apartment, the weight of Scarlett beside her, all of it narrowing down to touch and breath and the dizzying fact of what this might become.
Scarlett drew back just enough to look at her, eyes dark and searching.
Then she kissed her again, and Aliyah turned fully into it, half climbing into Scarlett's lap without caring how desperate that looked.
Scarlett's hands came to her hips, firm now, anchoring her there as the kiss went hot and hungry in a way it never had before.
Aliyah could barely think.
She was dimly aware of her own breathing, of Scarlett's mouth on hers, of the slide of Scarlett's hand lower, over the curve of her body, until warm fingers spread over her ass and held.
Aliyah went still for one startled, electric second.
And somewhere in the middle of the kiss, with Scarlett's hand there and her own heart trying to punch through her ribs, one stunned thought flashed through her mind.
It's happening.