I almost argue—it’s only not right because you decided it’s not—but he sees it coming, shakes his head before I can speak. I close my mouth.
“I keep waiting for you to walk away,” he says. “To get tired of the push and pull. To realize I’m difficult. And complicated. And not worth it. But you don’t. You never do. And that scares the hell out of me.”
“Why would you want me to walk away?”
“Because we can’t be together. Not really.” He steps closer again, brushing wet strands of hair from my face, his fingersfeatherlight against my temple. “God, you have no idea what you do to me. How hard it is to be around you andnottouch you. Nothaveyou.”
“I think I do.”
His jaw tightens. His fist clenches at his sides, knuckles gone pale. His shirt—white, soaked through—clings to every lean muscle of his torso, and the storm-wet curls falling across his forehead make him look devastating in a way that should be illegal for just about anyone’s sanity.
“What is it, then?” I ask, breath hitching. “Would it be trouble because you’re my TA? Or… is it my friendship with Theo?”
At the mention of his best friend, his expression hardens. He leans in closer.
“What does Theo have to do with this?”
I shrug, helpless. “I’m trying to understand what’s stopping you, Holden. Because it’s not me. I told you. I told you months ago—I have feelings for you.You’rethe one who told me to get over it.”
“I did,” he admits. “I still mean it.” He exhales like it physically hurts. “It would be easier if you did. If I did.”
“Can we just… not, for once?”
“Coralie—”
“Please.” I cut in. I finally meet his gaze again, and there it is—restraint, taut and trembling under the surface. His eyes move over my face, tracing every drop of water sliding from my lashes to my lips to my throat.
“Look around,” I whisper.
He doesn’t. His eyes stay locked on mine.
“There’s no one here. Unless you’re worried about the sea lions, there’s no audience. No consequences. No rules but ours.” The rain is a downpour now, drowning my voice so I have to raise it.
“I want you, Holden. And unless this is some cruel game you’re playing, Iknowyou want me, too. So can we please—justfor now—stop pretending we don’t?”
It’s reckless. It’s wrong. It’s everything I want. And yes, maybe I’m lying—because I don’t just wantnow. I wantalways. But ifnowis all he’s brave enough to give me, I’ll take it.
This time, he doesn’t stop an arm’s length away. He steps in until the toes of his shoes press into my bare feet, until the rise of my chest meets his and there’s no room left to breathe without breathing him in.
With his thumb and forefinger, he tips my chin up—slow, deliberate, as if he’s giving himself time to stop and chooses not to.
“I will not mess with your future, Coralie,” he says, voice low, unyielding. “I won’t be the reason doors close in your face.”
I don’t answer him. I don’t even fully understand what he means—not like this, not when the storm is breaking around us and the scent of rain and salt andhimhas tangled into something intoxicating. The heat coming off his body is relentless, stealing the air from my lungs, pulling me closer without him moving an inch.
“Do you understand?” he presses. “I can’t let myself do that to you. I can’t?—”
“Only today,” I whisper now, because anything louder would shatter me. “Just… today.”
The word hangs between us, fragile and dangerous.
He nodsonce. Just once.
The hand at my chin slides, knuckles tracing my cheek before settling at the nape of my neck, fingers firm, possessive. His other hand finds my hip and pulls me in until we’re flush, until I can feel the hard line of him through soaked fabric. A breath slips out of me before I can stop it.
His fingers thread into my wet hair and tug—not hard, but enough to tilt my head, enough to make my pulse spike. He leans in and stops so close our lips almost brush, close enough that when he speaks, the warmth of the words ghosts my mouth.
“You’re trouble,” he murmurs. “You know that?”
