We cross a line on a night that feels written by fate and hormones and every secret we’ve ever swallowed.
There’s a party near the cabins—music too loud, laughter too bright, someone passing around cheap beer like they’re handing out courage.My brothers are somewhere, probably getting into trouble.They’re now assisting the coaches so they can do almost whatever they want.My parents have turned in for the night.
And I’m with Callaway and Monty, my whole world narrowed down to the space between their bodies and mine.
Callaway’s gaze keeps dropping to my mouth like it’s a dare.Like he’s thinking,Say the word, and I’ll ruin you.
Monty doesn’t touch me at first.He just watches.Tracks every breath I take.Every time I swallow.Every time I pretend I’m fine.
I’m not fine.
I’m a live wire next to a tank of gasoline, and it takes only one spark.
It’s Callaway who moves first—because of course it is.He cups my face like he’s done it a thousand times in his head, and when he kisses me, it’s not gentle.It’s not careful.It’s a claim and a confession and a bad decision wrapped together.
I should push him away.
I should remember rules and consequences, and the way my mother would end me if she knew.
Instead, I grab his shirt like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I let go.
And then Monty’s hand closes around my wrist—firm, hot, grounding—and I flinch like I’ve been caught.
But he isn’t stopping me.
He’s pulling me closer.
His mouth finds my throat, and I make a sound I don’t recognize, something wrecked and needy and terrifyingly honest.
And right there, right then, I understand something that makes my stomach drop.
Want can be bigger than every rule you’ve ever lived by.
Want can be bigger than safety.
Want can make you brave and stupid at the same time.
Want can make you sayfuck itand mean it with your whole soul.
They love me.
I love them.
It should be simple.
It’s not.
Because when the sun comes up, reality comes with it.Guilt.Fear.The ugliness of what it means to want two people at once when the world insists love must be neat and singular and easy to explain.
Callaway tries to turn it into a joke at first—his defense, his charm, his way of grabbing control before anyone can hurt him.Monty turns quiet in a way that scares me, like he’s locking something inside himself and throwing away the key.
And me?
I stand between them with my heart split wide open and no idea how to stitch it back together.
We don’t know what to do with what we wake up holding.
So we do what scared teenagers do when they’ve found something too big for their hands—we ruin it.
