But then I catch the look on Miles. He’s stone-faced, leaning back on the couch like the world owes him something. His hood’s still up, eyes dark, jaw set. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, just watches her too.
We haven’t talked since last night, and after watching him pull Leslie onto his lap, allowing her to be all over him… he does this? Sits here, watching her like she’s his to protect, like he didn’t make the same mistake he warned me about? Hypocrite.
I down the rest of my drink, the bitterness coating my throat. Screw it. I’m not doing this tonight.
Outside, the air hits cooler, sharper. The music pours out through the open windows, and laughter echoes across the quad. A blur of movement—girls sprinting in their underwear, some of the guys joining in just for the hell of it, everyone high on adrenaline and alcohol.
They look free. Stupid, but free.
Chloe’s somewhere in the middle, hair streaming behind her, giggling as she dodges a sprinkler that’s gone rogue. I can’t help smiling. She’s radiant—not trying to be sexy, not performing—justalive.
“Hey, babes,” a voice purrs behind me.
Bella.
She slides up close, perfume sweet and heady, her fingers finding my sleeve as she leans in and presses a quick kiss to my neck. “Didn’t think I’d find you hiding out here.”
“Hey,” I say, giving her a small smile, trying to sound casual.
Her eyes flick over my face, then lower. She licks her lips, clearly thinking it’s her turn to pull me back inside. “We could head upstairs for a bit. Have our own fun.” Her tone leaves zero room for interpretation.
I chuckle softly. “Not tonight.”
She pouts, a teasing whine in her voice. “Boring.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
She grins anyway, brushing her lips against my cheek. “Your loss, Jamie.” Then she kicks off her heels, lets them fall onto the grass, and takes off running toward the chaos, joining the rest of the laughing pledges.
I know she’s doing it for my attention, but my eyes aren’t on her.
They’re on Chloe.
She’s heading back now with the rest, breathless, flushed, her hair clinging to her face. There’s glitter on her shoulder, probably from one of the other girls’ tops, and it catches the porch light when she stops at the steps.
Her eyes find me.
God. Those eyes.
She freezes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and I can’t help the grin that pulls at mine.
“Hey, stranger,” she calls out, voice breathless, teasing.
“Hey, peeping Tom,” I say, pretending not to notice how my heart’s hammering.
She laughs, pushing a strand of hair from her face. “You enjoying the show?”
“Wasn’t bad,” I admit, letting my gaze flick briefly from her face down to her legs and back up. “Definitely a highlight.”
Her cheeks flush deeper, and she bites back another laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe.” I lean against the railing, watching her. “You warm enough?”
She shrugs, still catching her breath. “Adrenaline helps.”
I’m about to say something else when a familiar voice cuts in—rough, too loud, too close.
“Man, Jamie, come on.”
