And I believe him.
Later, after the pizza’s been half-eaten and the games abandoned, we just sit. Music hums softly from the speaker in the corner—something slow, familiar, and raw. I lean against him, legs curled under me, and he doesn’t move. Just breathes with me.
“I used to dream about this,” he blurts. “This exact night. The couch, you in your hoodie, no makeup, just you.”
I look up, surprised. “Really?”
He nods. “Every day I was in my cell, I thought about you as you are right now. You are what keep me going during my time and I can’t help but feel like this is all a dream.”
I touch his face again, softly, anchoring him in the moment. “You’re not dreaming.”
He kisses my forehead, like he’s sealing that truth in. And I know he believes me.
Maybe we can finally have the future we lost.
Not the fairytale. Not the movie-ending.
But something real. Something earned.
Maybe this time, we'll get it right.
Chapter Seventeen
ROCK HARD TRUTHS
COLE-PAST
I lie backon my bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence of the room feels heavy, but it’s not the kind of heavy that makes me uncomfortable. It’s the kind of heavy that makes my thoughts race. I can’t stop thinking about her. Kenna.
She’s all I ever think about anymore, and I know that’s probably cliché, but it’s the truth. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, not like this. It’s more than just a crush, more than just a passing phase. This is different. I can’t even really put it into words, but I feel it deep in my chest, like it’s a part of me now.
Every time I see her, my heart skips a beat. When she smiles at me, it’s like the universe slows down, and I’m the only one who matters to her. When she laughs—God, I swear I could listen to that laugh for hours. And when she looks at me like she does, with those wide, curious eyes, I feel like she sees right through me, like she knows all the things I’m too scared to say out loud.
I want to take this to the next level with her, though. I want to make it real. Not just holding hands or kissing her in secret places, but something deeper. I don’t know if she’s ready for it, but I don’t want to rush her. Neither of us has ever done it before, and I want it to be special. I want to make sure she knows how much Icare about her, how much she means to me, before I take that step.
I know we’re still young—seventeen and sixteen—but sometimes I wonder if love even has an age limit. I mean, maybe it’s naïve to think that, but when I’m with Kenna, everything just makes sense. It’s like she completes me, you know? Before I met her, I was just...waiting for something to click, and then she showed up, and suddenly I felt whole.
I think about us, about how we are together. The way her hand fits perfectly in mine, like it’s meant to be there. The way she looks at me, I swear I can see the same feelings reflected in her eyes. She’s more than just a girlfriend. She’s the person I trust most, the one I go to when everything feels too heavy. There are parts of me she understands without me even having to explain. Sometimes, when I open up to her, I feel like I’m standing in front of her, bare, with nothing to hide, and she’s still there, still looking at me like I’m someone worth loving.
But I want to show her I love her in a way that feels right. I want it to be slow, to build up to that perfect moment, when we’re both ready and it’s more than just an impulsive decision. I want her to know that I’m not rushing into anything with her just because I’m a guy, and maybe I’m supposed to be all about that stuff at this age. It’s more than that for me.
I want to take the time to make sure she feels valued and safe, like she can trust me with all of her. I never want her to feel like I’m taking her for granted or not recognizing everything she’s already given me. Her time, her heart, and her trust mean more to me than she probably knows.
I will not be the guy who constantly focuses on what comes next or worries about what people think of us. What matters most is being present with her. Enjoying how we laugh late at night, how the conversation flows, and making sure she knows this relationship is a space where she can be fully herself without needing to pretend.
I close my eyes and picture Kenna—her messy hair, that wild,carefree smile, the way her cheeks flush when I tell her she’s beautiful. I just want her to know how perfect she is, even if she doesn’t always believe it herself. She’s a woman who deserves everything good, and I’m determined to give her the best version of myself.
The thing is, I don’t know if I’m ready for what comes next. But I know I want to be. With her. And I’ll wait until we both feel ready, because she’s worth waiting for. More than anything, I want to make her feel the way she makes me feel—like I’m the luckiest guy in the world just because I get to be with her.
I decided then that I will wait for Kenna to initiate having sex before we do anything.
It’s the middle of July, and we’re back from that beach camping trip, sun-kissed and still buzzing from the ocean air. Kenna didn’t want the night to end, so she stayed. At first, she’s lying beside me warm against my chest, and I can feel the electricity in the space between us. Then she moves, climbing on top of me like it’s second nature. Her hips shift against mine, slow and teasing, and my heart hammers.
She pulls off her shirt with that look in her eyes—the one that says she knows exactly what she’s doing and trusts me to meet her there. I cup her chest without thinking, and she bites her bottom lip, smiling, daring me, wanting me. When she unhooks her bra, my breath catches. Her skin glows under the soft lamplight, and my chest tightens. I’ve never seen anything so perfect.
I’ve felt her pressed against me before, teased her in private moments, but this—this feels like it matters. Every inch of her pressed against me is sacred, and the want builds until it’s almost unbearable. Every gasp, every shiver makes me hotter, more desperate, like I might combust just from wanting her.
I reach for the condom I stashed earlier, pulling it out carefully. “Are you ready?” I whisper, my hands lingering on her hips.
