“Yes.”
His eyes are dark and intense as he sweeps my face. The moment is charged but awkward. He shifts closer—his gaze now fixated on my mouth. He bends his head, our lips now a whisper away.
I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin, the faint scent of whiskey and something sharper, like pine and clean sweat. My pulse is hammering so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. One of his hands comes up slowly, not quite touching me, hovering just above my waist like he’s giving me the chance to pull away.
I don’t.
My fingers curl into the front of his shirt instead, the fabric warm from his body. For one dizzying second, the garden disappears—the fairy lights, the distant bass from the party, everything narrows to the space between our mouths. His lips part slightly. So do mine.
Then—
A loud, sloppy giggle slices through the night air.
“Oh my god, is that him?”
“Shhh! You’re so loud, bitch!”
“No, you shhh—wait, is that the new recruit? Vale? Holy shit, he’s even hotter up close.”
We freeze.
Tristan’s forehead drops against mine for half a second, a frustrated exhale rushing out of him. His hand finally makes contact with my waist, but it’s not the way I wanted—more like he’s steadying himself against the interruption.
Three girls come stumbling around the corner of the hedge, arms linked, champagne flutes dangling dangerously from their fingers. One of them is wearing a sparkly “Future Mrs. Somebody” sash that’s sliding off her shoulder. They’re all flushed and giggling, clearly several drinks past polite.
The tallest one spots us and stops so abruptly her friends nearly topple into her.
“Oh… shit. Are we interrupting something?”
The shortest one squints at Tristan like she’s trying to focus through beer goggles. “Wait… you’re the new basketball guy, right? The one who the coach won’t shut up about? We’ve been looking for you everywhere! The girls dared me to get a picture with you for the group chat.”
She holds up her phone like it’s a trophy, the flash already half-on.
Tristan doesn’t move away from me immediately. His hand stays on my waist, thumb pressing just a little harder into the fabric of my dress, a silent promise that this isn’t over. But he turns his head toward them, jaw tight, voice low and rough.
“Not a great time.”
The girls don’t take the hint. The one in the sash laughs too loudly, nearly spilling her drink on the roses.
“Aww, come on! Just one pic! You’re basically campus royalty now. And she—” she waves vaguely in my direction, “—can join too! You two look cute. Are you hooking up? Is this a thing?”
My face burns. I try to step back, but Vale’s grip tightens just enough to keep me there.
“Later,” he says, the word clipped, before releasing me.
“But we told everyone we’d find you!” the third girl whines, already trying to angle her phone for a selfie. “It’s for our sorority’s Instagram…”
A sharp, tipsy laugh cuts her off as one of them trips over a low garden border and grabs her friend for balance, sending all three into another fit of giggles.
Vale mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse, then finally lifts his head fully. The heat between us is still there, simmering under the surface, but the spell is shattered.
He looks down at me, eyes still dark, still hungry, the almost-kiss hanging between us like unfinished business.
“Stay right here,” he says quietly, only for me. “Don’t move.”
Then he turns toward the girls with a strained, polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Alright. One picture. Make it quick.”
