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SCARLETT

I don’t even feel the chill of the night air. The warm buzz thrumming through my body keeps the cold at bay; even if the feeling were to wane, the warmth radiating from Lane’s body would pick up the slack. His arm is looped around my shoulders, tucking me close to his side.

There’s still a burbling undercurrent in my mind that’s impossible to settle after the bombshell that just exploded in the pool.

The wasted year and a half, the new understanding I have of so many of my and Lane’s interactions since I came here, the shocking fact that Caleb stooped even lower than I ever thought him capable of … it’s a lot to deal with.

But it’s still just an undercurrent. All the outrages, questions, and shocks are drowned out by the certainty that Lane and I have each other now.

Lane and I haven’t done a lot of talking since he fucked me senseless. The orgasm ripped through me like it was building up in my body for the entire year and a half since I last felt him inside me, and it must have been minutes before I was able to see straight.

Lane just held me close while my body was like jelly, with my face pressed into his chest. Then, we took a shower, and he cleaned me up. Afterward, we dried off, dried our underwear as well as we could with the towels, got dressed, and now we’re walking home.

Are we dating now? I’m not sure. That’s what it feels like, but like I said, Lane and I have done a lot more touching than talking in the last several minutes.

I know what I want. A relationship with Lane. A real one.

I also know he’s moving to California to be a professional hockey player after this semester ends.

Is he as ready to give the long-distance thing a try as he was a year and a half ago before Caleb blew up our chance to see if it would actually work?

When we walk up to the house, it’s clear the rest of the guys are home. The downstairs lights that we turned off when we left are all blazing, and we can hear rambunctious laughter as we walk up the porch steps.

In front of the door, I pause.

“So, uh … what should we tell them?”

Lane looks down at me, and a knot of insecurity tightens in my chest. I try to ward it off, but I’m so used to thinking that Lane decided he didn’t want to be with me after all, that we were just a fun but forgettable fling for him, that I feel like a part of me is ready to experience the same thing all over again.

Part of me is scared to truly embrace the possibility that I finally have what I’ve wanted all along.

“Like, maybe we just keep things to ourselves for a while, if you want?” I continue. “Or, I don’t know, do a soft launch …”

Lane’s eyebrow tilts. “Soft launch?”

I nod my head. “Yeah. If you don’t want to shock our roommates by seeing us suddenly … together, out of nowhere.” I try to inject some humor into my explanation, but jitters of uncertainty betray me.

Lane keeps looking at me for a beat—before dipping down and scooping me up. My heart does a flipping thing in my chest at the sudden sensation of weightlessness in his arms, a feeling I associate so strongly with him.

With me in his arms, Lane opens the door and steps us both inside the house. Everyone’s here—Hudson and Summer, Tuck and Olivia, Rhys and Maddie, along with Sebastian—and they’re all hanging out in the kitchen, chatting with drinks in their hands.

Their conversation halts, and every pair of eyes in the house snaps to Lane holding me aloft.

Lane marches us right into the kitchen. No one speaks, still taken aback by our sudden intrusion in the most unexpected way. Once we’re right in the midst of the group, he sets me down.

Then he kisses me.

Without a word, right in the middle of his teammates and friends, he presses his lips to mine and kisses me deeply. It’s a breath-stealing kiss, a statement-making kiss, his lips stroking mine with firm pressure— possessive pressure.

My surroundings swirl out of focus. My eyes feather closed, and I let myself melt into him, surrendering to his lips as he slants his mouth to deepen our kiss.

My lips are swollen and tender in the best way when Lane pulls back. I open my eyes to find a drugged and sated look on his face.

“Fuck a soft launch,” he says.

There’s still a hushed silence as everyone keeps their eyes trained on us. Rhys is the one to break it when he says, “About fucking time.”

The rest of the night passes in the happiest whirlwind as everyone, especially the three girls, demands to know how this all happened.

My ex stole a year and a half from us, but nothing in the world can steal how good it feels to be with Lane right now.