I pull back just enough to look into his eyes, finding something raw and unguarded there that steals my breath. Without words, I take his hand and lead him upstairs to my childhood bedroom, where vision boards and photo collages from my favorite books still adorn the walls, and memories of us studying for finals and watching movies until dawn linger in every corner.
The door closes behind us with a soft click. In the silver moonlight filtering through my curtains, we undress each other slowly, savoring each newly revealed inch of skin like explorers mapping precious territory. There’s no rush, no desperate fumbling, just the quiet certainty of two people who know exactly what they want.
When he lays me down on my narrow bed, the weight of him above me feels like coming home after a long journey. His hands and lips chart courses across my body that I never knew existed, drawing sounds from my throat I barely recognize as my own.
We move together like the tide meeting the shore—inevitable, powerful, perfect. Every touch is a confession, every kiss a promise neither of us dares speak aloud. In this moment, there are no labels, no boundaries, no rules. Just Brandon and me, as we’ve always been, yet somehow entirely new.
My mind empties of everything but him—the taste of his skin, the rhythm of his heartbeat against my chest, the way he whispers my name like it’s sacred. I’m floating and falling, drowning and breathing all at once.
When the tension finally breaks, it’s like watching stars being born behind my eyelids—brilliant, blinding, beautiful. We cling to each other as reality slowly reassembles around us, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped tightly around me as if he’s afraid I might disappear.
In the quiet aftermath, with Brandon’s steady breathing beside me and his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin, clarity washes over me like a gentle wave. The realization doesn’t come as a shock or revelation. It settles into place like the final piece of a puzzle I’ve been working on my entire life.
I’m not just falling for Brandon.
I’m in love with him.
Not the comfortable, familiar love I’ve always felt for my best friend. Not the conditional, performative love I thought I had with Ethan. This is something vast and boundless, terrifying in its completeness.
I’m in love with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. The way he subconsciously rubs his lip with histhumb when he’s thinking. The way he runs his hand through his hair when he’s frustrated. The way he listens to me talk endlessly about the latest romance I’ve read with genuine interest. The way he knows exactly what I need before I do. The way he’s stood beside me through everything—not just as my safety net, but as the person who pushes me to fly.
It hits me with sudden clarity—the truth that’s been there all along.
I love him.
Completely, utterly, without reservation.
And I have absolutely no idea what to do about it.
Chapter 36
BRANDON
The locker room buzzes with pre-game energy. Cleats clack against tile, equipment managers shout instructions, and there’s a steady thump of hip-hop from someone’s portable speaker. I sit at my locker, staring blankly at the floor as I mechanically tape my wrists, my mind a thousand miles away from today’s game.
“Earth to Brandon,” Chris says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You planning on joining us in reality anytime soon?”
I blink, looking up to find the guys gathered around my locker, all in various states of game preparation. “Sorry,” I mutter, tearing off the athletic tape with more force than necessary. “Just focused on the game.”
Damon snorts. “Bullshit. You haven’t heard a word Coach said in the last twenty minutes.”
“Something’s up,” West observes quietly, his eyes narrowing as he studies my face. “This about your arrangement with Tatum?”
At the sound of her name, my hands still. It’s the day after I returned from Thanksgiving at her parents’ house, one day since that night by the fire, twenty-four hours of pretending everything is normal while my mind replays every second of what happened between us.
It was different, wasn’t it?
“So?” Chris prods, lowering his voice as he glances around to make sure no one’s listening. “How was the holiday? Did you tell her yet?”
I drop the tape and drag both hands through my hair. “I’m so fucked, guys.”
“That bad, huh?” Jace asks, dropping onto the bench beside me.
“No. Thatgood.” I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. “It was . . . different this time. The trip home, everything was different.”
West crouches down to my level, tipping his chin. “Different how?”
“I can’t explain it. The way she looked at me, the way she touched me. It wasn’t like it’s been before.” I shake my head, struggling to put into words what I felt. “We were at her parents’ house, and it was like we were . . . I don’t know, a real couple. I’m pretty sure her mom noticed it, too. I saw her giving me the eye and watching us the whole time I was there.”
