Heat zips through me. I grind again, feeling him harden even more under me, the slide of skin on skin making me gasp. He doesn’t waste time as he reaches down and guides himself into me, stopping only once I’m fully seated on him. His hands guide me, big and sure, thumbs pressing little bruising circles into my hips.
It’s quick and frantic and so, so good I have to bite his shoulder to keep from crying out in this paper-thin motel room again. He kisses me through it, murmuring, “That’s it, baby. Come for me.”
Fifteen minutes later we’re bundled back up, teeth brushed, and back on the road with gas station coffee steaming in the cupholders.
We trade dumb stories, argue about whether candy canes are actually good, and share a bag of pretzels. My feet are on the dash, his hand occasionally landing on my knee like he forgot it was allowed.
By the time we cross into Illinois, we’re laughing again. And then the green sign appears: Willow Creek—NEXT EXIT.
Silence fills the void as we drive back through our hometown. The past rushes up to meet us, two-story houses with wreaths, the water tower we all climbed as a dare, the knowledge that at the bottom of this exit is his family… my family… Maddie.
I look at him, profile sharp against the gray sky, and something inside me feels like the bottom just completely dropped out on my life. Somewhere between Denver and home, between motel sheets and miles of winter highway, I think I fell in love with Cole Bristol.
And now I have to walk into Willow Creek and pretend I didn’t.
Mom criesthe second I step through the front door, Dad snaps a photo before I even put my bag down, and within five minutes, my high school yearbook has somehow made an appearance. It’s chaos and comfort all at once, and yet my mind keeps flicking back to the way Cole’s hand brushed mine when he dropped me off.
By the time evening hits, I’m still buzzing from the entire day, like I’ve been stretched between two versions of myself. Theone who used to live here and the one who woke up tangled in his sheets this morning.
Maddie’s text comes through just as Mom’s pouring me another cup of cocoa.
Maddie: You better be bringing your cute ass over here. Mom made lasagna.
Me: Yes, I’ll be over later.
Maddie: Don’t be late! Be here by 6.
I’m at the Bristol’s door by 5:58 and for the first time in my life, I’m nervous at my best friend’s house.
The smell of garlic and baked pasta hits me before the door even opens. Then Maddie’s squeal pierces the silence. She launches herself at me like a sugar-high elf, arms wrapping tightly around me. “You’re here! I can’t believe it!”
“I moved away a month ago.” I laugh but Maddie doesn’t care. It might as well have been a lifetime. She pulls me inside, talking a mile a minute about the new teaching job, her student’s Christmas pageant, her mom’s new obsession with peppermint bark.
And suddenly, all that sadness back in Denver disappears and it’s like I never left. And then Cole appears.
He’s walking down the hall, fresh from a shower, damp hair curling at the edges, wearing a gray Henley that clings in all the ways I don’t need it to.
“Hey,” he says, that low rumble I still feel somewhere deep in my chest.
“Hey.” My voice does that breathy, traitorous thing it does around him.
Maddie doesn’t notice. She’s too busy dragging me toward the kitchen table, pointing out which cookies she decorated versus the ones her mom “butchered.” Cole’s mom hugs me like an extra daughter, piles lasagna on my plate like she’s trying tofeed an army, and pushes me to my “usual” spot at their kitchen table.
Cole lingers… helping his mom grab wineglasses, refilling Maddie’s water, standing close enough behind me that I swear I can feel his heat at my back. Every time our eyes catch, the rest of the room blurs out.
“So,” Maddie says, twirling her fork, “how’s work? Are the Denver guys cute? Please tell me you’ve gone on at least one date.”
I snort. “Define cute.”
“Not nerd cute like Chicago guys,” she says. “Like,mountain manwears flannel and saves you from an avalanchecute.”
My fork stills. My brain flashes to Cole, naked in that motel bed beneath me while I rode him.
“I, uh…” I clear my throat, stabbing a noodle. “Work’s… busy.”
Maddie narrows her eyes. “What was that?”
“What was what?” I ask innocently.
