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Travis couldn’t stop grinningas Jewels belted out the lyrics to the song blasting through the stereo speakers, her fingers wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle.

They were sitting across from each other on the floor in his bedroom, completely shit-faced and snort-laughing like idiots.

She tossed her head to the beat, her pale hair swirling about her rosy-cheeked face. Then she passed him the pretend microphone, thrusting the bottle at him. He took it and sang, well aware that he was way off tune and probably sounded like a dying bird.

Who cared, though? Not him. For all he knew, he was dying tomorrow, and he refused to waste one second on something as trivial as embarrassment.

By the time the song ended, they were breathless and grinning.

Jewels reached over and turned down the volume. “So,” she said, brushing strands of hair out of her face, her chest rising and falling with her panting breaths.

“So,” Travis repeated. He drummed his fingers against his beer can and took a swig. He was so drunk, the floor was tilting and the walls were spinning.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to say to Roman when you see him?”

The question was nearly enough to sober him. “I’m going to tell him…that I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Good start,” Jewels praised. She took a sip of beer. “That’s a good start.”

“And I’m going to tell him that I’mnever”—he sliced a hand through the air— “coming back to Yveswich—for real this time.” At that, Jewels trilled a laugh. Travis smiled back, but it was soon fading as he said, quieter now, “And that I’m sorry. I’m going to tell him I’m sorry.”

“Good plan,” Jewels said, nodding. She swirled the last of the beer in her bottle. “All good plans.” She downed the last sip, her mouth shaping so perfectly over the lip of the bottle.

“And…,” Travis said, a new smile pulling on his mouth. He couldn’t stop staring at her—at that pretty face, those big, green eyes, the generous curve of her lips.

She squinted one eye at him. “And what?” she prompted. She licked her lips, sucking briefly on the lower one.

“And I’m going to tell him about this girl I like,” he said, fuelled by liquid courage and the invisible sword hanging above his head. “Like,reallylike, not just a little.” He held up his thumb and forefinger. “A lot,” he said, about an inch of space between his fingertips.

Jewels gasped. “Wow!” she pretend-gushed, her eyes flaring. “That’s a lot! Like, a lot a lot!”

He chuckled and lowered his hand. “Not sure if she feels the same way about me, though,” he said with a noisy clearing of his throat.

“Oh, Travis,” she purred. The way she said his name had him imagining how it might sound if he had her in the bed, her legs around his waist, their bodies moving as one. “Of course I do.” That little bit of humor on her expression faded as she added, “I just…” She sighed. “I was scared.”

“Two years or two days—it doesn’t matter to me, Jewels,” he said, his voice gruff. “It doesn’t change that fact that I really…really…really…really…like you.” He cleared his throat again.

She held up her thumb and forefinger. “This much?”

“More.”

She widened the gap.

“More,” he said again.

She raised her brows. “You sure about that?”

He smiled. “Really sure.” But that smile was soon fading, his nerves getting the better of him, as he said, “You know, I’ve been thinking… In case we don’t make it out of here tomorrow…it would probably be a good idea if I kissed you now.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, her lips twitching with amusement. “Just in case?”

He shrugged. “Better to be safe. No regrets, right?”

She set down her bottle and crawled across the floor toward him. “No regrets,” she whispered, desire burning in her stare.

And then she closed her eyes and planted her mouth on his.

Soon, they were stripping off each other’s clothes, and Travis was gathering her into his lap and picking her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he stood. He carried her to the bed, kissing her the whole way there.