I follow his gaze upward. The stars are clearer out here, away from the worst of the city glare.
I swallow. “I wish the same.”
He turns to face me.
For a heartbeat we just stand there… two people in a bookstore parking lot, holding paper bags and impossible hopes.
Then he rises on his toes.
I meet him halfway.
The kiss is slow this time. Gentle. No chlorine. No audience. Just his mouth against mine, soft and warm and tasting faintly of chocolate and whipped cream. His free hand finds my jacket,fingers curling into the leather. Mine settles at the small of his back, steadying him.
When we finally pull apart, his eyes are bright.
“Thank you,” Landon whispers. “For today.”
I don’t trust my voice, so I just nod.
We walk to the car in silence.
I open his door. He slides in.
I circle to the driver’s side, start the engine, and pull out onto the road.
The motel isn’t far.
And as the engine’s low rumble comes up at me through the driver’s seat, I wake up to the possibility that this might be our last night with one another.
I’m risking everything for Landon.
I’m ready. He’s ready. It’s time to make this boymine.
Chapter 13
Landon
“That was so cool,” I say, tired but happy. “The waterpark, and then the bookstore. It almost felt like it was real too.”
I take a moment and exhale. I know this is only temporary, and I know right now I have way more questions than answers. But I can’t deny that I had a good time today.
We’re at the motel now. And to say it’s not luxury is an understatement…
The motel bathroom is small and dated—cracked white tiles, a narrow tub with a faint rust ring around the drain, a single bulb overhead that flickers when the exhaust fan kicks on—but right now it feels like the safest place in the world.
Steam is already rising from the tap as I let the water run hot, and the sound of it filling the tub is steady, soothing, almost meditative after the chaos of the day.
I stand in the doorway in nothing but one of Ivan’s oversized T-shirts, watching the water level rise. My muscles ache in that pleasant, used way from the waterpark slides.
But underneath the physical tiredness is something heavier, an emotional exhaustion that has settled deep in my bones. The adrenaline of running, the fear of being hunted, the confusion of what Ivan really is to me now… it all sits there, pressing.
I turn my head slightly.
“Ivan?”
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed in the other room, elbows on his knees, staring at the carpet like it holds answers. He looks up immediately.
I swallow. My voice comes out softer than I intend.
