I check my phone. Nothing.
Then I pull my notes out of my bag, and eat while I study.
My phone lights up and I realize I’ve somehow turned the volume off.
It’s then I notice that Cove messaged me like an hour and a half ago.
Then the notification hits. The little banner slides across my screen with her username and a thumbnail that makes my stomach drop—I almost don't move. Like if I stay perfectly still, I can delay the fallout of whatever I’m about to feel. There’s a message with the thumbnail.
This is it. I have to send it to my boss for final approval for the calendar event but I think she’ll approve. Thanks again, Everest
But my body acts before my brain. I jump up from the bed, locking my dorm room door. Then I put my earbuds in, take a deep breath and hit play.
There on the screen is Cove—but not the version I met in person. This is the camera version.
Confident. Playful. Sharp.
But now, knowing what her laugh sounds like when the cameras are off, knowing how close she leaned into me, knowing how her eyes softened when she looked at me… it hits differently.
She looks incredible, yes. She always does.
But tonight—something else glows beneath it.
Because my attention is on the way she’s looking at me.
Not the lens. Not the audience. Me.
It’s like she sees me. It wasn’t just a video, she felt something too.
The kiss flashes across my memory again—so quick, so accidental, so intentional—and my chest aches with it.
I finish watching the video, but instead of the usual high, the usual rush I get with watching her…I feel hollow.
Because it isn’t just lust anymore.
It’s something worse. Something that scares me. Something I don't know how to name.
I sink back onto my bed, eyes closed, earbuds still in, her voice fading but not really gone.
And for the first time, I wonder what happens next— and what happens if she feels it too.
Chapter Sixteen
COVE
I shouldn’t watchthe raw video more than once. It’s a rule I set for myself ages ago—one clean run-through to confirm angles and audio, maybe two if the lighting’s being a bitch. Anything beyond that becomes personal.
But tonight, I’m at four. Four full replays, and my finger still hovers over the spacebar like I’m starving.
The footage fills my screen again, washed in neon light from the carnival below. The gondola sways, Everest’s breath catching at the same second mine does, and there I am—CottonCandyKisses, the persona, the fantasy, the polished seductress—except I don’t recognize her the way I normally do.
And him? Jesus.
Everest is… something else on camera. Not performative or eager to impress. Justreal.
There’s awe in his face. Actual awe. Like he doesn’t know how this is happening to him, like he’s scared to blink in case I vanish.
I pause the frame. His eyes are fixed on me, mouth slightly parted, cheeks pink with nerves. If anyone else saw this, theywould say he looks lovesick. And if they said it out loud, I might fucking combust.
