Lava

Jackie Sloan likes his life quiet. Predictable. Safe. Then Bay moves into the apartment next door—chaotic, bright, warm, and completely unaware of the emotional earthquakes she causes just by existing. What begins as accidental encounters in the hallway turns into shared umbrellas, failed baking attempts, grocery store disasters, late-night conversations, and a growing warmth Jackie keeps trying (and failing) to ignore. Bay isn't any better—she trips into him, laughs too close, lingers too long, and sketches him in secret like she's afraid to admit what he already feels burning under his skin. Everyday moments start to glow: a brush of fingers, a shared kitchen disaster, the soft weight of Bay falling asleep on his shoulder. The "lava effect," Mina calls it—the bubbling, rising heat neither of them can hide anymore. As rumors stir, misunderstandings spark, and feelings grow too strong to contain, Jackie and Bay must face the truth they've been tiptoeing around: love can be quiet, awkward, messy, and terrifying… and still feel like home. A slow-burn romantic comedy about warmth found in ordinary days, the courage to reach for someone, and the soft, steady way two people fall for each other—one small, glowing moment at a time.