“Next,” Miles says, already making a list.
“Next,” I agree.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
The apartment’sstill half dark, half drunk from last night. There are empty bottles on the counter, a half-eaten pizza box tipped on its side, and somebody’s jacket was draped across the kitchen chair that doesn’t belong to any of us when I finally fell into bed. As far as I know, the apartment is empty apart from the band, but I think Miles headed out with someone.
My head’s buzzing even though I haven’t slept more than a couple of hours, and it’s not just from the hangover starting to chew on me—it’s from The Lantern. The gig. The noise we made.
Our socials haven’t stopped lighting up since we walked off that stage. Mentions, tags, shaky videos with captions likewho the hell are these guys???andLantern crowd lost their minds. And yesterday, Carl, The Lantern’s manager, called again. Said the words “next month” like he was offering us a map to a bigger world. I haven’t come down since.
The sun isn’t even up properly when my phone buzzes again. I groan, roll over, and squint at the screen.
Ollie: Outside.
That’s it. No preamble. No warning.
I’m on my feet before my brain catches up, nearly face-planting into Eli’s abandoned drum bag that’s somehow made it into my bedroom. My boxers are the only thing I manage to grab on the way out. My legs are shaky, my mouth tastes like beer and sleep, but my chest is pounding with something that feels way too much like joy.
When I open the door, there he is.
Ollie looks exhausted—eyes heavy, dark circles painted under them—but his smile is big, unguarded, like he couldn’t stop it if he tried. He’s got a duffel slung over one shoulder, hoodie unzipped, damp clinging to the edges of his hair.
“Hey,” he says, and just that single word makes my chest flip.
I know they had a killer game last night. I watched the highlights at three this morning when I couldn’t sleep, scrolling through clips of him driving the ball down the court, commanding the floor, throwing himself into it like he was born for it. He was everywhere. He was everything.
And now he’s here.
I don’t bother with hello. I grab his hoodie, yank him inside, and press my mouth to his like I’m trying to erase the days we’ve missed. He kisses me back instantly, hard and deep, like he needs this as badly as I do. The door slams shut behind him, forgotten.
He tastes like Gatorade and exhaustion and Ollie. His hand cups the back of my neck firmly, pulling me closer, and I can’t stop the noise that rips out of me. I shove him against the wall, our bodies colliding, teeth clashing. It’s desperate, messy, with so much hunger bottled up that I swear the air itself sparks.
“Missed you,” I rasp against his mouth.
His laugh is low, rough, vibrating through me. “Two days.”
“Too long.” My hands are already on him, sliding under his hoodie, up the slick plane of his chest. He’s still warm from sleepor travel or both. Muscle under my fingers, heartbeat thundering against my palm.
“Bedroom,” I mutter, and then I’m dragging him down the hall before he can answer. My bandmates could wake up any second, and maybe that should make me hesitate, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes me hungrier.
We stumble into my room, the mattress half covered in lyric sheets and a crumpled T-shirt. I don’t care. I push him down onto the bed, climb on top of him, and kiss him until we’re both gasping. He grips my waist, fingers digging in, and I grind against him, the friction shooting straight through me like a live wire.
He groans into my mouth, and fuck, I’ll never get tired of that sound. It’s raw, unguarded, like I’m hearing the truth from a guy who spends his whole life holding it back.
“You’re still buzzing,” he says against my throat, voice thick.
“Lantern,” I pant. “We killed it. Last night we celebrated.”
“I wish I’d been here,” he cuts in, his breath hot against my ear. “You were incredible.”
That makes me freeze for a second, then burn hotter. “Yeah?”
His eyes catch mine, dark and sharp even in the low light. “You looked like you belonged there.”
No one’s ever said that to me before. Not like this. Not with this certainty. My chest tightens, and I kiss him harder to keep from saying something stupid.
