She didn’t answer. But her arms wrapped around me, holding me there like maybe — just maybe — I wasn’t the only one who’d just fallen too far.
Her breathing was still ragged against my chest, her body soft and pliant beneath mine. I should’ve moved, given her space, but I wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.
The world outside my room didn’t exist for a heartbeat. It was just us — her skin damp with sweat, the faint scent of her perfume mixing with mine, the sheets twisted around our legs.
I brushed my lips over her hairline, whispering the truth I hadn’t meant to say out loud. “Been wanting that for longer than I should admit.”
Her laugh was quiet, nervous. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Unbelievably good,” I teased, but my chest was tight. Because that didn’t feel casual. Not for me.
Her phone beeped with a text, and Sav shifted, tension creeping back into her shoulders as she read it.
“You mess my head up.” Her voice was soft, and her next words cut me clean open. “I don’t think... I don’t think we should have done that.”
I pushed up on my elbows, searching her face in the dim light. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Sav—”
“No.” She sat up, tugging the sheet around herself, her hair spilling down her back in tangled waves. “You’re... Jesus, I’mtutoringyou. My father...” She trailed off, shaking her head.
I sat up too, leaning forward, elbows on my knees. “I don’t give a damn about your father.”
Her sharp laugh told me how reckless that sounded. “Well, I do.”
My jaw clenched. I stood, removed the condom, knotted it, and dropped it in the trash beside my bed. “Does he need to know everything about you?” I asked her. “You seem to hide things from him pretty well.”
“God, Dante.” She shoved herself to the edge of the bed. “You don’t get it. He’s not just my dad, he’s thedean.” She clenched the sheets. “Ugh! Why don’t I think straight when I’m around you?”
“So what are you saying?” I asked, my voice steady, calm.
She took a deep breath. “I think this was a mistake.”
The wordmistakehit harder than any defensive player ever could. I stood back, scrubbing a hand over my face, trying to swallow the sharp burn in my chest. She was already pulling her jeans and underwear from the floor, fumbling to get them on. I found my boxers and my hoodie, and yanked them on without looking at her.
The high of having her — the one thing I’d wanted and finally tasted — spiraled into something I couldn’t name.
“You’re making a bigger deal of this than it has to be,” I muttered, though it felt like my voice was cracking. “But if that’s how you want to play it.”
She froze, back to me, shoulders shaking with the weight of it all. I pushed up, crossed the space, and caught her hand before she could pull away.
“Sav...” I swallowed hard, lowering my voice. “Don’t tell me you regret it. Don’t stand here and pretend you didn’t want this.”
Her hand trembled in mine. She didn’t look at me, not right away. When she finally turned, her eyes were glassy, her lips parted like she wanted to deny it — but she didn’t.
Thank fuck, because I don’t think my ego could have taken the hit.
But her silence was still louder than any answer she could’ve given me.
She pulled her hand free. “I need to go before your roommates come back.”
The words sliced through the air, sharper than a blade. She bent to gather her shirt, quick, quiet, like each piece of fabric was a shield she could hide behind. I didn’t move, didn’t try to stop her. My fists curled uselessly at my sides because if I touched her again, I wasn’t sure I’d let her leave.
“They’ve seen girls leave the apartment before.”
I saw it land exactly the way Ihadn’tintended, but I didn’t correct it. She hesitated and then pulled her shirt on with her back to me, shoulders squared in that stiff, perfect way of hers, like armor she knew how to wear. And when she finally turned, her voice was steady again. Too steady.
“I think it’s best if we agree this never happened.” She looked down. “Or speak of it. I’ll email you the reading list for this week.”
