The soft glow from the bedside lamp catches on her skin as she pulls off her shirt, revealing the curve of her back and the smooth line of her legs as she steps out of her jeans. My breath hitches in my throat, my body reacting instantly to the sight of her. I have to look away before I lose control.
But it’s too late, the image of her is burned into my mind. As I lie down on the couch, closing my eyes, my thoughts spiral. I imagine what it would be like to crawl into bed behind her, to feel her warmth pressed against me. My hands on her soft skin, her body moving under mine, her breathy moans in my ear as she whispers my name.
My hand slides under the waistband of my shorts, and I give myself a long, slow stroke, the fantasy of Dylan consuming me. “Fuck,” I whisper, my voice barely audible in the quiet room. If just the thought of her does this to me, I’m going to be a lost cause if I ever actually get to touch her.
I bite back a groan as the pleasure builds, my mind flooded with images of her—her lips, her body, the way she looks at me like I’m the only one who sees her for who she is. I want her so badly, and the thought of being this close, yet so far, is driving me insane.
I have to stop. I have to get control before this gets out of hand. But as I lie there, the tension in my body refuses to fade, and all I can think about is Dylan.
The next morning, I wake up to soft sunlight streaming through the window. I get up and check on Dylan, who’s still fast asleep in my bed, her hair a messy halo around her face. She looks peaceful, like the weight of everything hasn’t quite hit her yet. But I know better. I’ve seen the stress in her eyes.
Quietly, I make my way to the kitchen. I figure I can at least make her something to eat—something simple. I pour a bowl of cereal, listening to the clinking of the spoon as I set it on the counter. She’s going to need energy for the day ahead, especially with everything going on.
A few minutes later, I hear her stirring. I lean against the counter, waiting for her to wake up fully. She rubs her eyes as she enters the kitchen, blinking at me in the morning light.
“Morning,” I say with a small smile. “I made you some cereal.”
“Morning. Thanks,” she says, taking the bowl from me with a grateful smile. She takes a seat at the kitchen table, pushing her hair out of her face. “What’s the plan for today?”
“I don’t have any plans,” I tell her, sitting down across from her. “We can tour the campus if you want, or just hang out. Whatever you feel up to.”
She nods, her expression softening a little. “I’d like a tour. I want to see the campus. I think it’ll help... take my mind off things.”
Just as she finishes speaking, her phone rings. She glances at the screen, and her face tenses immediately.
“It’s my mom,” she says, her voice tight. She hesitates for a moment before answering. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” her mom demands, not even bothering with a greeting. Even from where I’m sitting, I can hear the sharpness in her voice before she even puts it on speakerphone.
Dylan takes a deep breath. “Colorado,” she answers simply, her fingers gripping the edge of the table.
“Dylan Murphy, how dare you act this way and defy me. You will come back here right this minute. I’ll have Gideon send money for a plane ticket.”
I can see the tension building in Dylan’s body, the way her jaw tightens. She closes her eyes for a second, clearly trying to remain calm. “No,” she says firmly, her voice steady. “I want tobe here, and you’re not listening to me at all. I’m eighteen, Mom. You can’t keep trying to control me.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, then her mom’s voice becomes cold. “If you don’t get on a plane home today, you are not welcome back here ever!”
Dylan’s lips press into a thin line, and I can see the pain in her eyes. But she doesn’t waver. “Then I guess I’ll see you when I see you,” she says quietly, and without waiting for a response, she hangs up.
The room is silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air. Dylan stares down at her phone, her hands shaking just slightly. Then, a tear slips down her cheek.
I stand up and move over to her, wrapping my arms around her without a second thought. “Are you okay?” I ask softly, knowing full well that she’s not, but wanting to give her the space to answer however she needs to.
“I will be,” she whispers, wiping the tear away quickly as if she doesn’t want me to see her cry. But I hold her tighter, letting her know it’s okay to let it out.
We stay like that for a few moments, her head resting against my chest, and I can feel the tension slowly starting to leave her body. I press a soft kiss to the top of her head, wanting to take away even a fraction of the pain she’s feeling.
“Eat,” I say gently, pulling back just enough to look at her. “And then we’ll go see the campus and grab some lunch. You can stay here as long as you need to. There’s no rush.”
Dylan looks up at me, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Okay. Thank you. I appreciate it more than you know.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m here for you. Always.”
She nods, managing a small smile, though I can still see the sadness lingering in her eyes. “I should probably call the guys, too. Let them know what’s going on.”
“I’m gonna shower,” I say, giving her space. “You can talk to them in private, and if they want to come here too, that’s totally fine.”
She nods, her fingers toying with the edge of her phone. “Okay. I’ll see what they want to do.”
