She crosses her arms over her chest, defiant despite the blush still staining her cheeks. "Yes, I really do."
I nod slowly, processing what this means. Reese is stubborn as hell—always has been. If these are things she really wants, she's going to do them with or without me. And I'll be damned if she does them without me. The thought of her chasing these thrills with someone else makes my blood boil.
I look her straight in the eyes, decision made. "You don't know the can you're opening, but we're gonna do your list."
Her mouth drops open. "Wait, what? We are going to do the list?"
"Yes, WE," I emphasize, tossing the notebook onto the coffee table. "I don't trust anyone else with you, but I want you to have everything you want. So WE will be checking things off your list." I smirk, gesturing toward the bathroom. "Go ahead and cross off number one since you manhandled me in the bathroom."
She blinks at me for a moment, then a slow, infectious smile spreads across her face. "Are you serious?"
"Do I look like I'm fucking joking?" I step closer, towering over her. "I'm dead serious. But I have conditions."
"Of course you do." She rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling.
"One, I'm in charge of when and how these happen. Two, if at any point you want to stop, we stop—no questions asked." I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her skin. "And three, you have fucking fun. You deserve all the good things you want, Reese."
She lunges at me, wrapping her arms around my waist, her face pressed against my chest. I can feel her heart hammering against mine, our bodies perfectly aligned.
"You're literally the best fucking friend ever," she mumbles into my shirt. "I don't deserve you."
Best fucking friend. She didn’t kiss me like a best friend but I’ll let her have this. I am her best friend and only her best friend…for now.
My arms circle around her, swallowing her smaller frame in my embrace. I rest my chin on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, trying to commit this moment to memory. The way she fits against me like she was made for it.
"Nah, I definitely don't deserve you," I say, my voice rough with emotion I'm trying desperately to hide.
She pulls back just enough to look up at me, those hazel eyes shining with something I can't quite name. For a second, I think she might kiss me again, and my entire body tenses with anticipation.
Instead, she steps out of my arms, grinning like nothing monumental just happened between us. Like we didn't justrewrite four years of friendship with one kiss and a fucking list.
"Come on, time to watch a scary movie," she announces, bouncing on her toes with sudden energy.
I groan, running a hand through my hair. "Fine, but not Scream again." The whiplash from almost-kissing to movie night is giving me emotional vertigo, but I'll take whatever I can get with her.
Her face scrunches up in mock offense. "Uh, yes Scream again. Hello, the first husbands of horror, I need thy on my screen again."
"You've seen it like fifty fucking times," I complain, but I'm already settling onto the couch, making room for her beside me.
"And I'll watch it fifty more," she declares, grabbing the remote and pulling up the movie on our streaming service. She plops down next to me, close enough that our thighs touch. "Besides, you secretly love it."
Jokes on her because I’m better than both of those fucking guys. Better looking, better at killing, just fucking better.
"I secretly tolerate it because you like it," I correct her, but we both know it's bullshit. I'd watch paint dry if it made her happy.
Chapter 17
Reese
Hockey night at St. Charles means I'm freezing my ass off in the stands for the third time this week. But fuck if I'm missing Ramsey play.
I've got the best spot in the arena—front row, center ice, right behind the players' bench where I can see everything. I'm bundled up in Ramsey's old jersey, the one he wore sophomore year before he bulked up another fifteen pounds of pure muscle. It still swallows me whole, hanging to mid-thigh over my leggings.
The smell of sweat, ice, and testosterone fills the air as the teams warm up. I watch Ramsey skating hard, his powerful body moving with lethal grace across the ice. Every time he circles back toward the bench, his eyes find mine for just a second before he's off again.
Since that kiss a week ago, something's shifted between us. We haven't talked about it—haven't done it again either—but there's this new tension humming inthe air whenever we're alone together. Like we're both just waiting for the other to make a move.
My thoughts are interrupted when a massive shadow falls over me. I look up to see Copeland Astor looming above, his hulking frame blocking the overhead lights. His hockey captain jersey stretched right across his shoulders that could double as a fucking aircraft carrier. Behind him are two girls—one with bright pink hair, the other with purple locks, both twisted into space buns. Ugh, they look so cute, and it kinda makes me wish my hair was a bit longer so I could do that hairstyle also.
