I was way out of my depth. How was I supposed to act normal when everything Connor and I did together felt normal too?
Micah brushed past me toward Bobby, and all heads spun our way with cheers and greetings and hugs. Lola made a beeline for the snacks. Evie drifted off to where the other girls from the team were already.
And suddenly there was no buffer left.
Connor set his drink down and started toward me, weaving easily through the yard. Every step he took made my nerves hum louder, my body bracing for… something. I didn’t know what. I just knew I wasn’t ready for him to be this close again.
He stopped in front of me, and his arms twitched by his sides as his eyes dropped to my lips. They dried under his attention, and when I licked them, a rough grunt broke free from his chest.
“Teddy,” he said, voice gravelly.
I swallowed and forced my voice steady. “Connor.”
His eyes stayed with mine, and I hated how clearly he was looking—like he was checking in, like he remembered exactly how I’d sounded the last time we spoke.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Yeah,” I replied, because anything more would’ve betrayed how much effort it had taken to stand here without folding in on myself.
His mouth tipped into a small smile, one that didn’t ask for anything. “It’s a bit of a circus out here. If you want a minute before everyone starts circling, I can show you around.”
The undercurrent of us both knowing that was for show only, somehow worked to soothe me. Was he already that good at reading me? Could he tell that I wasn’t good at big social events?
I nodded before I could overthink it. “Sure.”
He gestured toward the house and let me fall into step beside him, close enough his nearness settled against me without a single point of contact. The glass door slid open, and the noise quietened instantly, laughter and music dulling as we stepped inside.
My focus darted behind us, as I gnawed at my lip, wondering if someone might see us disappear together. I barely took in the art framing the hallway walls, my palms sweating. The only thing I could focus on was thethump, thumpof my heart and his footsteps.
“This way,” he said, turning down a short hallway near the back, somewhere I actually hadn’t been before.
The laundry room was tucked off to the side, narrow and quiet, the door clicking shut behind us.
His breath left him in a short laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you wanted everyone to see us together and…” He shifted close enough that I had to tilt my head up to look at him. “I just wanted to see you,” he said. “Without an audience.”
Something in my chest gave way at that. I didn’t move back.
His head dipped, unhurried, like he was giving me time to change my mind.
I didn’t. I leaned in first, the movement small but decisive, and he met me halfway. As soon as our lips touched, sparks flew down my throat and erupted across my skin. The kiss wasn’t rushed; it was familiar, like we were picking up a sentence we’d both been thinking about since the last time we spoke. His hand came to my waist, gripping tightly, and the contact sent another rush through my body that had nothing to do with surprise and everything to do with recognition.
As he swiped his tongue against mine, my hands flew to his hair and gripped. He growled in appreciation, surging into me again, wrapping his hands around my legs and lifting me until I was pressed against the door.
My legs locked around his hips on instinct alone, and the sound I made was half a breath, half his name, swallowed by his mouth as he kissed me again.
There was a quiet intensity to it, the kind that didn’t need urgency to feel overwhelming. His hands held me like he knewexactly where I belonged, thumbs pressing in, as if to reassure himself that I was there, that this was happening. My pulse was everywhere, thumping, racing, all-encompassing, and every point of contact felt heightened
I broke the kiss for just long enough to breathe, my forehead resting against his, noses brushing. His breath was uneven now, his chest rising hard beneath my hands, and when his mouth traced along my jaw, it sent a shiver straight through me. From the knowledge that whatever this was between us, it hadn’t faded in the days apart.
He pulled back, dark eyes colliding with my own. “I missed you.” His nose grazed mine, and I felt the risk of him, of how easy it would be to fall. That opening of my heart was widening, and I fought the instinct to protect myself. This feeling was so foreign to me, yet it didn’t feel wrong.
I pressed another kiss to his lips and whispered the words that exposed me more than our conversation the other night. “I missed you, too.”
His arms came around me fully this time, pulling me in until my cheek was pressed to his chest and his chin settled on my head. The hold was firm, enclosing, and I let myself sink into it.
I listened to his breathing even out beneath my ear, aware of how easily my own followed suit. There was something disarming about being held like this, without expectation or escalation.
My hands slid into the back of his shirt, fingers tracing along his back and making him hum contentedly. I wasn’t used to this part—the closeness that came after the tension, the part where feelings had space to stretch. It should have made me retreat. Instead, it made me stay.
