I nod, gnawing on the corner of my lip, my cheeks heating. “Trying to decide if I should climb in there with you.”
He turns toward me slowly, water sliding down his chest, and the look in his eyes is enough to make my stomach flip. “I think that could be the best decision you make all day.”
I step inside, smiling, and the world dissolves into laughter, warmth, and the easy intimacy that feels less like something new and more like something we’ve been building toward forever.
By afternoon, the apartment feels like its own little universe. We’re stretched out on the couch, me tucked against him with my back to his chest, legs tangled together under a blanket. I’m reading, well, trying to. The book is resting in my lap, it’s the same one from the other night, his arms circled loosely around me.
He doesn’t sit still. His fingers trail lightly along my arm. My hip. The edge of my thigh. I don’t think he’s trying to be distracting, except he absolutely is. I try to ignore him. I fail.
“Michael,” I grumble without looking up.
“Mmm?”
“You’re distracting me.”
“I’m just existing.”
I snort. “Your version of existing involves way too much touching.”
His laugh rumbles against my back. His fingers glide slowly over my skin again, deliberate this time. I shiver. He leans closer, voice low near my ear. “You’re welcome to read any dirty parts out loud again.”
Heat rushes through me. I turn my head enough to glare at him, but he’s grinning. “Are you daring me?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
I roll my eyes and look back at the page, but I’m smiling. And his hand never stops moving, lazy and affectionate, like he just needs the contact. It hits me then; how easy this feels. No tension. No uncertainty. Just us.
The afternoon drifts by in quiet moments. Reading. Talking. Laughing. Falling into comfortable silences where nothing needs to be said. Every time I shift, he adjusts with me, pulling me closer again like it’s instinct. Like he can’t help it. And honestly, I don’t mind at all.
By the time night falls, neither of us has mentioned leaving the apartment. Dinner is simple. More laughter. When we finally make our way back to the bedroom, there’s no hesitation this time. No question of where I belong. I don’t pause at the doorway. I just slide into his bed like it’s already ours.
He watches me for a moment, something soft and certain in his expression, before climbing in beside me. His arm wraps around my waist automatically. I settle back against him, fitting perfectly.
Outside, the city glows and moves and lives its own life. But here, in this quiet room, everything feels steady. Like the beginning of something neither of us wants to end. I stare at the dark ceiling for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing behind me.
His arm tightens slightly around my waist, even in sleep, like some part of him is making sure I’m still here. And I realize I don’t feel the urge to leave. Not tomorrow. Not later. Not even eventually. The thought should scare me. Instead, it settles deep in my chest, warm and quiet and dangerously right.
I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the comfort of him, into the safety of this small, perfect bubble we’ve built today. But somewhere beneath the peace, a tiny whisper lingers. Nothing this good ever stays untouched for long. I press back against him anyway, choosing not to think about tomorrow.
Just this.
Just us.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mikey
Only Wanna Be With You
Hootie & The Blowfish
I wake slowly,warmth pressed against my side. For a second I don’t move, just breathe her in. Quinn is half sprawled across me, hair everywhere, one leg tangled with mine like she fell asleep trying to get closer even though there was nowhere left to go.
Her hair tie is on the nightstand, the lamp crooked from when we turned it off sometime in the middle of laughing. My chest does something weird, something I haven’t felt before. This feels so normal. Too normal. Like waking up next to her isn’t new at all, like this has always been the way mornings start.
I brush my thumb lightly along her arm, careful not to wake her, but her nose scrunches anyway and she shifts closer with a sleepy sigh. Yeah. I’m already gone.
Eventually her eyes blink open, soft and unfocused. “Morning,” she yawns.
