I kiss her before she can change her mind.
She tastes like toothpaste and something sweet, and when she sighs against my mouth, her whole body softens into mine.I forget every reason this is a bad idea. My hands slide up her back, pulling her flush against me, and she makes a quiet sound that I want to hear on repeat for the rest of my life.
“Missed you,” I murmur against her lips.
“You saw me three hours ago.”
“Too long.”
She laughs, breathy and warm, and I walk her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed. She sits, then scoots back, and I follow, stretching out beside her on the crisp hotel sheets.
For a moment, we just lie there, facing each other, close enough that I can count the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. Her hand comes up to rest on my chest, right over my heartbeat.
“This is dangerous,” she whispers.
“Probably.” I bring her hand to my mouth and press a kiss to her knuckles. “Can’t seem to make myself leave.”
She watches me with an expression I can’t quite read. Then she shifts closer, tucking herself against my chest, and I wrap my arm around her like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We lie there for a while—her head on my shoulder, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her arm. The room is dimly lit, except for the glow from the desk lamp and the city lights filtering through the curtains.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Your rule. The no-players thing.” I keep my voice soft. “Did that come from somewhere?”
She goes still against me—not pulling away, just... bracing.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I add. “I just figured—we’re lying here in the dark, spilling secrets. Seemed like the right time to ask.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she exhales, her breath warm against my chest.
After a beat, she says, “His name was Jason. He was the starting quarterback at my college.”
I keep my arm steady around her.
“I played soccer,” she continues. “Division I. We met at some athlete mixer freshman year. He was...” She laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “He was the golden boy. Charming, good-looking—everyone knew him, everyone loved him. I thought I was so lucky that he picked me.”
My jaw tightens, but I stay quiet.
“It started small. A text I saw on his phone. A story that didn’t add up. I confronted him, and he apologized, said it would never happen again.” She exhales slowly. “And I believed him. Because I wanted to. Because it was easier than admitting I’d been stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid.”
“I was. Because it happened again. And again. And every time, he’d apologize, promise to change, and I’d stay.” Her voice goes flat. “For two years, I stayed. Watching him charm everyone while I made excuses, telling myself it would get better.”
I want to find this guy and break every bone in his body.
“What finally made you leave?”
“I walked in on him with a freshman from the volleyball team.” She shrugs against me, a small, tight movement. “Hard to make excuses when it’s happening right in front of you.”
“Tori...”
“But the worst part wasn’t the cheating. It was what happened after.” She finally looks up at me, her eyes dry but hard. “When I ended it, he told everyone I was the crazy ex—obsessive, jealous, making things up. And people believed him. Because he was Jason—star quarterback, the golden boy, everyone’s favorite. And I was just the girl who dated him.”
My arm tightens around her.
