Jace’s POV
Reva, you’re on my mind. Constantly.
It’s been a month since we confessed how we feel. A whole month—and I’m still stunned.
What did I ever do to deserve you?
You’re the purest thing I’ve ever known. And the most dangerous.
Today was like any other day—except it wasn’t.
You walked into my cabin again, pretending it was about work.
“Jace, not again,” you said, already halfway in.
“I swear I was just closing,” I replied, slamming the laptop shut.
“You weren’t,” you smirked. “You were staring at it like you could finish that slide with laser vision.”
God, you make me laugh—even when you’re dead serious.
Before you could launch into a lecture, I reached for your hand and gently pulled you into my lap.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And it was.
We don’t go a day without teasing each other, without touching, without toeing the line between soft and sinful.
You leaned in and kissed me—warm, slow, intentional.
I deepened the kiss, unable to stop myself. My hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you flush against me.
You fit perfectly. Like you were meant to be there, straddling my lap, stealing my breath.
And then—you pulled away.
Not completely. Just enough to make me lose my mind.
Your eyes met mine. Not scared—just unreadable. Like a tide pulling me in and holding me back at the same time.
There was uncertainty in them… but not rejection, no.
Something gentler. Like you wanted more but didn’t know how to ask.
Or maybe you did—but weren’t sure what would happen if you did.
Something unspoken that begged for more even as it hesitated. That look… it wasn’t innocent.
And the way you tilted your chin to meet my gaze—those few inches between us, your parted lips, the way your breath mingled with mine—it set something primal off in me.
Reva, you don’t even realize it, do you?
You’re inviting me.
You’re daring me.
And I swear, I could’ve taken that dare. I could’ve pinned your wrists and shown you just how long I’ve been holding back.
But I didn’t.
Because you’re still figuring it out. And I want you to choose it—not just feel it.
So I held you tighter, burning with restraint, my body screaming forward while my heart whispered, Not yet.
And then I kissed you again—slower, deliberate. Tongue meeting tongue, like a quiet tug of war.
You moaned into my mouth, and I swear, I lost every ounce of control I had.
You felt it. I know you did. The way I hardened underneath you, the way my breathing changed.
But you didn’t flinch.
You didn’t move away.
You didn’t say no.
You didn’t say yes either.
And that was enough for me to hold back.
Barely.
My hands stayed where they were—gripping your hips like a lifeline. My mouth hovered near yours, still craving, still aching.
“Reva…” I whispered your name like it might save me.
Your lashes fluttered. That look in your eyes… God, that look.
You were confusing me without meaning to—wanting me to lose control, needing me to hold it.
So I did.
Because when I finally go wild with you—I want you sure. I want your eyes screaming yes with nothing in between.
And when that moment comes… you won’t recognize the man I become.
But for now—I stay still.
And with that—my phone rang.
Reality. Just in time.
“You fine?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” I said, catching my breath, grabbing the phone. “Just checking the project status.”
You stood up quietly. And I saw it—the slight shift in your eyes, like you thought you came second to my calls. To my work.
You don’t know how close you came to unraveling me.
And maybe it’s better this way—for now.
Because if you’d stayed in my lap another minute, I would’ve lost the last of my self-control.
I want to be good to you.
Better than I’ve ever been with anyone.
Even in the quieter moments, when you talk about your team, your office dramas, your dreams—I want to solve every problem in your life.
I could. But you won’t let me. You’re too proud, too stubborn.
And still… I’d wait. I’d hold back.
Because you’re not just someone I want to touch.
You’re someone I want to keep.
And yet, after all that warmth between us—
I came back home alone. I didn’t want to though.
I wanted to ask if you’d stay the night.
Not for anything wild. Just… stay.
Stay and sit on the couch with me. Stay and fall asleep in one of my oversized tees. Stay and let the silence between us be soft and full.
But I didn’t ask.
What if you thought it was too soon?
What if it wasn’t too soon, and you were waiting for me to say something, and I still didn’t?
You’re technically not even my girlfriend.
I mean, we feel like we are. We act like it. But we’ve never put a label on it.
Maybe that’s why this war inside me feels so raw.
There are parts of me that want to move fast—
Fix everything that ever bothered you.
If your manager’s draining you, why can’t you just work with me?
If your heels hurt your feet, I want to take you shopping and make sure you never have to choose between looking good and feeling comfortable.
If rushing to catch that train wears you out, I could get a driver to wait outside your building.
Just say the word, Reva. I’d do it all in a heartbeat.
But would you let me?
Would you smile and say thank you—or would you pull away and tell me I’m overstepping?
You’re so independent. So damn stubborn.
And I love that about you.
But it also makes me hesitate. Makes me second-guess what’s too much… and what’s not enough.
Then there are things I can’t promise.
Like texting you while I’m buried in back-to-back meetings.
I might forget—not because you aren’t on my mind, but because work swallows me whole sometimes.
Would that hurt you? Would you understand?
Some days I can’t meet you. Other days, I meet you and lose hours of work after—because your presence lingers in my head like a soft song I don’t want to turn off.
And maybe that’s okay.
Maybe it’s okay that I don’t have it all figured out.
But Reva, I want to tell you—
I don’t want you just for now.
Not just for sweet texts and weekend kisses.
I want you for the long run.
For the tough days and slow mornings.
For when I’m too tired to talk, but still want your hand in mine.
I want you in my life…
But for that, you need to know what my life looks like.
The chaos, the flaws, the late nights, the missed calls.
All of it.
And maybe, when the time is right, I’ll say all this out loud.
But for tonight… I just carry it all in my chest,
Hoping that somehow, through the little things I do, you already know.
—-
The Next Morning
Big day.
I’ve got back-to-back project reviews lined up, and I’m finally going to pitch the AI-powered truck idea I’ve been building in silence for months.
Today’s the day I speak big. Dream bigger.
As I button up my suit, already halfway through one early call, my phone lights up.
A message from Reva.
“Good morning 💛”
She just woke up. I’m already knee-deep in strategy mode.
That difference in pace—it hits me sometimes. Hard.
We live in two different worlds.
And I don’t know if she’ll ever fully fit into mine.
Or if I even have space for her the way she deserves.
Lately, doubts keep creeping in. I hate them.
Not because I don’t like her anymore—I do. Fully, certainly.
But I can’t help but wonder… Reva, would you ever understand my life?
You call your boss an idiot for making you work 14-hour days.
And yeah, he probably is. But me?
I live in 14-hour days. There’s no boss to blame—just me, chasing deadlines and decisions.
I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
Still, I hate that you’re being pushed around by that boss of yours.
And I hate even more that I don’t know how to explain to you that I’m not always going to be available either.
I’ve realized something though—I can’t live on two sides of the fence.
Can’t keep questioning silently and pretending loudly.
I’ve got to tell you. Whether you get it or not.
Maybe I should start small.
I typed:
“Good morning. Today might be a busy one. Okay if I call you at night?”
Reva replied:
“Yeah, have a good one :)”
That caught me off guard.
She didn’t ask why. Didn’t complain.
I smiled. Then paused.
Maybe that’s what happens when I set a boundary for the first time—people actually respect it.
And maybe… she’s not the one who doesn’t understand.
Maybe I just never gave her the space to try.
The day raced by in a blur of presentations and whiteboards and fire-in-the-gut clarity.
I barely checked my phone.
But the kick-off went better than expected, and that quiet pride in my chest made every sleepless night worth it.
When I finally looked at my phone, it was 9 p.m.
One message from Reva:
“How’d it go?”
I wanted to call right then and there. To tell her everything.
But I hadn’t eaten all day, hadn’t even sat down.
So I drove home, took a quick shower, scarfed down some leftovers—
Then sat on the sofa for a second.
Just a second.
That’s all it took for sleep to steal me.
When I woke up, morning sunlight was peeking through the curtains.
Still in my suit pants. My phone still beside me.
Two missed calls. A few more texts.
Damn. I’d fallen asleep on her.
I stared at the screen, rubbing my eyes.
Would she be mad? Disappointed?
I couldn’t think straight—but I didn’t want her to feel let down.
So I grabbed my phone and typed:
“Reva, I crashed on the sofa like a dead man.
Yesterday was huge.
Can I call today and tell you everything?”
Even though I said that, today turned out to be another whirlwind.
I had to visit the R&D office—non-stop from morning till evening.
When I finally got back home, I saw her sweet message:
“IK you’re having tough days. Keep working hard. I’m proud of you.”
Tough days? Not exactly.
I’m actually enjoying it. This pressure, this pace—it’s not a burden, it’s a rush.
But I’ll explain that to you later, Reva.
For now, I just need a little rest.
So I texted:
“I feel like I’m taking big steps. So excited for it. Will tell you when we meet.”
With that, I crashed again.
Next morning, I woke up to a message from her:
“So when are we meeting again?”
Ugh—I hadn’t thought that far.
When do we meet again?
More like… when can we actually meet again?
I think I can carve out some time on the weekend.
Yeah. I’ll tell her.
But before I could reply, the whole day slipped through my fingers again.
Meetings, follow-ups, just one thing after another.
It was already night.
And I hadn’t replied. Not once.
I’m slipping into my old self again, aren’t I?
I was exhausted—but I couldn’t go to sleep without checking in.
So I dropped a message:
“Hey, it’s pretty late. I’m sorry I couldn’t text you any sooner.
If you’re up, I really want to talk.”
I didn’t expect her to be awake. Not at this hour.
But then—my screen lit up.
“I’m here.”
My heart did this thing.
I quickly typed:
“I’m calling.”
And even before I saw the blue ticks, I hit the button.
God, I just want to tell her everything.
Chai & Matcha Diaries 
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