“I choose you,” he whispers, just for me. “I’ve always chosen you.”
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
The sky erupts with fireworks, but I barely notice them. Dylan’s lips find mine again, warm and insistent, and I’m falling, soaring, finally understanding what all those love songs are about.
His strong arms wrap tightly around my waist, calloused fingers pressing through the silky fabric of my dress, hauling me up until my toes barely scuff the concrete. I don’t hesitate. I wrap around him, fingers tangled in his thick dark hair that feels like silk between my fingertips, gripping him like he’s the only thing keeping me anchored to the world.
His tongue grazes my lower lip, hot and velvet-soft, sending shivers cascading down my spine. I part my lips for him as he deepens the kiss. My knees almost buckle as he claims my mouth, the world tilting dangerously beneath me. I taste the whiskey from earlier and the faint tang of adrenaline, and I want to drown in it, memorize it.
Around us, couples embrace, friends cheer, strangers wish each other Happy New Year, but we exist in our own world, making up for lost time.
I slide my hands down to his broad shoulders, feeling his muscles shift beneath his jacket, digging my fingers in, greedy for every square inch of him. He breaks away only to kiss across my jaw, down to the sensitive hollow of my neck where my pulse hammers wildly, and I feel him smile against my flushed skin as the crowd around us explodes in cheers.
When we finally break apart, breathless and grinning, we find Genna standing next to us, her expression a mix of shock and elation.
“FINALLY!” she exclaims, loud enough that several heads turn our way. “Do you have ANY idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen?”
Dylan laughs, his arm still firmly around my waist. “Probably about as long as I have.”
Paul appears at Genna’s side, champagne glasses in hand. “Congratulations,” he says, offering us each a glass. “Though I have to say, you guys cut it pretty close.”
“Elevator got stuck,” Dylan explains, taking a glass and handing it to me before accepting one for himself.
“For an hour?” Genna raises an eyebrow, looking pointedly at my smudged lipstick. “Looks like you found a way to pass the time.”
I feel my face heat, but before I can respond, we’re surrounded by a group of Dylan’s teammates, Blaze leading the charge.
“There he is!” Blaze exclaims, clapping Dylan on the back. “The man finally got his head out of his—”
“Careful,” Addy warns, appearing at his side with a knowing smile. “There are ladies present.”
The guys laugh, congratulating Dylan with back slaps and fist bumps that seem to be some sort of masculine code I’ll never understand. I expect to feel awkward, out of place in this circle of athletes who’ve known Dylan for years. Instead, I feel included. Welcomed. Like I belong here, with them. With him.
“So,” Kade says, eyeing us with a smirk. “Does this mean we won’t have to listen to Dylan mope around the locker room anymore? Because that was getting old.”
Dylan groans, but his arm tightens around me. “Thanks for that, man.”
“Anytime,” Kade says.
“To the newest couple on the team,” Cam says cheerfully, holding up his glass. “May your fights be few and your makeups be memorable.”
Everyone laughs and raises their glasses. I look up at Dylan, finding him already watching me, his expression so tender it makes my heart stutter.
“To us,” he says softly, clinking his glass against mine.
“To us,” I repeat, and when I sip the champagne, it tastes like possibilities.
The group disperses eventually, moving back to the railing for a better view of the fireworks that continue to paint the sky. Dylan keeps me close, his arm a constant, comforting weight around my waist.
“I’m never letting you go, Chey. Not ever again.”
And standing here, surrounded by friends, the sky bright with fireworks and the new year spreading before us like an unwritten story, I finally understand what it feels like to be enough—exactly as I am.
To be chosen, not because I made myself smaller or tried to fit some ideal, but because Dylan sees me, really sees me, and chooses me anyway.
No, not anyway.
Because of who I am.
