Judah's standing at the foot of the building when I approach him. His back is towards me, hands shoved into the pockets of his thick bomber jacket, a grey hoodie covering the back of his head. My eyes trail across his broad back as he stands tall, shoulder width apart, staring into the distance.

Fingers tugging the scarf around my neck, I slowly jog down the stairs, fearful of falling over in my four-inch heels-probably not my wisest decision-before fixing the strap of my side-bag over my shoulder. I wrap my oversized coat tighter around my body, stopping the cold from seeping in. We're almost approaching the start of November, so the temperatures are set to drop, much to my dismay.

At the sound of my heels clicking loudly against the pavement, Judah turns his head, though not entirely. It's enough for me to catch a glimpse of his sharp side profile, under the orange lighting of the lamppost. His head is tipped back slightly, eyes shut as he basks in the sound of the passing cars, the muted cheers from the house a few feet away from us, to the fireworks going off above us, casting an array of colours over us.

My feet drag me in his direction, until the distance between us is merely a few inches apart. I peer up at the tall man, blinking when he catches my gaze. I raise my shoulders, tilt my head to the side, and smile up at him, scrunching my nose as I do so.

Aiyana,he says in greeting, finally turning around to face me. His dark eyes dart over my appearance, lingering on my face for a split second, before dropping to my legs, a disappointing sigh slipping past his lips when he spots my heels. You look... you look nice, but if your feet start to hurt, I'm not helping you.

A soft laugh sounds from the back of my throat; I stick my tongue out at him and begin to walk, calling over my shoulder, Stop sounding so hesitant. It's okay to admit I'm pretty.

Your ego is going to thrive. I'd rather not,he bites back, strolling to my side. His arm brushes against mine, and I quickly recoil at the touch, resisting the urge to grab hold of his hand, positioning my clasped hands in front of me instead. Our close proximity allows me to relish the subtle scent of his nutmeg and vanilla cologne, nose twitching as I inhale.

Where are we headed again?I ask, pursing my lips as I fish through the contents of my purse-attempting to keep my hands occupied-to search for my lipgloss. The lack of lighting doesn't help either.

Some restaurant in Canary Wharf. You know the Argentinian one,he murmurs briefly, dropping his gaze. Your coat doesn't look very warm, Aiyana.

I sigh when I'm unable to locate my lipgloss, switching between fiddling with my thumbs to playing with the golden rings on my fingers. Are you worried about me, Judah?I tease, leaning a little closer to his side to elbow his rib.

He heaves a sigh and ignores my question. Are you cold?

You can't answer my question with another question, Judah. That's not how it works,I grumble, teetering on my heels as we come to a stop in front of the station.

Shut up,he says gruffly. His eyes lock onto mine, and for a short moment-ignoring the passerby's-it's just the two of us; I'm reminded of our time at the library, when he first had the balls to take a seat in front of me, but I'm also reminded of my embarrassing mishap.

At the sudden thought, I can feel a faint blush flittering it's way across my cheeks. Judah dips his head, his soft breath gently caressing my cheek, before his lips brush against the shell of my ear, You're going to catch a cold, Aiyana.

And with those words, he raises his hands and proceeds to fix the woolly scarf around my neck that had come loose. My lips part in awe, but there's no sound, eyes wide as I watch his eyebrows furrow in concentration, looping the scarf around my neck, before fixing the top to cover my mouth and nose.

Thank you,my words are muffled by the thick material, so I squeeze his strong bicep in gratitude.

Judah stares at me blankly, I covered your mouth so you don't speak, idiot.

I grin up at him, though it fails to reach him due to the material covering my mouth. I raise a hand and use my index finger to pull the scarf down, You're cute when you're concerned.

He scoffs and grumbles under his breath, lifting his hand before he's pressing his index finger and middle finger against my forehead to push me away gently. My head jerks back at the action, lips dropping into a frown.

Again, shut up,his voice is gruff, and before I know it, he's ripping my hand away from my side and intertwining our fingers. I release a soft gasp at the action, feeling his rough calluses brush against my palm, but Judah ignores me and pulls me along until we're making our way to the tube. Don't let go of my hand.

You're so rough. Relax a little,I tease, brushing my thumb against the back of his hand. I'm not going anywhere.

Do you want me to show you how rough I can really get?

I gasp mockingly, raising my free hand to my mouth and widen my eyes, Judah Savestano, are you-are you threatening me with a good time?

He splutters at my question and shakes his head, but the light blush adorning his cheeks is glaringly clear. Judah chooses to grumble under his breath, squeezing my hand roughly as he tugs me along, not sparing a glance over his shoulder.

And as if waiting our arrival, the tube approaches, halting in front of us. Judah's hard chest is pressed up against my back, bringing our intertwined hands over my right shoulder. My breath hitches when I feel his spare hand brush under my coat to hold my waist; I don't think Judah even takes notice of what he's doing, gently squeezing my hip as he nudges me into the carriage.

I barely take notice of the passengers around us, focusing my attention on the way Judah's fingers graze my skin, but before I can think anymore of it, he's removing his hand and pushing me into a spare seat. Luckily, the carriage isn't as packed.

Judah slips into the seat beside me, just as the tube starts moving again. A tired sigh slips past my lips and I refrain from rubbing my eyelids, not wanting to smudge my mascara. I'm still holding Judah's hand, though this time, our hands are in my lap; he remains silent, using his left hand to scroll aimlessly through his phone.

I flinch when his thumb involuntarily brushes against my knee, snapping my head up in his direction.

He doesn't notice.

And because the trip is long-it's a one way journey, no extra stops-I give up, and without a care I let the world flash before us, defeatedly dropping my head onto Judah's shoulder. He's radiating warmth, and makes me feel safe. My palm is warm, and small, and perfect, and clammy against his, but as I go slack against him, Judah doesn't let go.

Instead, he grips my hand a little tighter.

haha reached the 20 image limit again 🙄🙄🙄 but anyway, i think this might be my fave chapter yet