Page 21

I lean against my closed door for a moment, collecting myself, feeling the lingering warmth of Sanderson's lips on mine. My heart is still racing, my body humming with unfulfilled desire. The memory of his hands, his mouth, his weight pressing me into the mattress sends a fresh wave of heat through me.

Taking a deep breath, I cut the corner where Lennox is unpacking Chinese takeout containers with a smirk that could only be described as insufferable.

"Statistics, huh?" she says, not even looking up as she arranges the food on my desk.

"Stop," I mutter, but I can't stop the smile spreading across my face.

"Your shirt's on inside out," she points out casually, passing me a container of lo mein.

I glance down in horror and yes—there's the tag, proudly displayed at my collarbone. "Oh my god."

"And your hair looks like someone ran their fingers through it. Repeatedly." She demonstrates with exaggerated motions. "Oh, and your lips are swollen, and there's a flush on your neck that's definitely not from studying, and—"

"Okay, okay!" I grab my pillow and bury my face in it, half-mortified, half-laughing. "Point made."

"So," she says, settling cross-legged on my bed and stabbing a piece of orange chicken with her fork. "Are we going to talk about how I just caught you in a very heated statistics session with Sanderson Connolly? The same guy you've been avoiding for days? The brother of your ex? That Sanderson who threw punches over you?"

I peek over the pillow, unable to contain my smile despite my embarrassment. "Yes, that Sanderson."

"What happened to 'I need space' and 'It's too complicated' and 'I'm becoming a nun and dedicating my life to academia'?"

"I never said that last one," I protest.

"You didn't need to. It was implied by the fortress of textbooks and unwashed coffee mugs you've been living in. I walked into a dump yesterday when I came here." She takes another bite, watching me expectantly. "So? Spill."

I hug the pillow to my chest, not even trying to fight the blush I can feel spreading across my cheeks. "He showed up at my door. Said he wanted to make sure I was okay. And then…I don't know. We were talking, and he was being all sincere and vulnerable, and I just…"

"Jumped his bones?" Lennox supplies helpfully.

"No! Well…kind of?" I fall backward onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. "I kissed him. I didn't plan to, I just…couldn't not kiss him anymore."

"And then?"

"And then things got…intense."

"I'll say." Lennox nods toward my disheveled bedspread, the books scattered on the floor. "Good thing I showed up when I did, or you might have broken your bed. Those twin frames aren't built for the kind of statistics you two were studying."

I throw the pillow at her, which she dodges easily, laughing. "You have the worst timing in the world, you know that?"

"Or the best, depending on how you look at it." She throws the pillow back at me. "Were you ready for that? To go all the way with him?"

The question makes me pause. Was I ready? Everything had happened so fast, a blur of sensation and need. One minute we were talking, the next I was half-naked beneath him, wanting more, wanting everything.

"I don't know," I admit. "In the moment, absolutely. But maybe it's good we got interrupted. Things were moving fast."

"Fast is fine if it's what you want," Lennox says, her tone turning more serious. "Just making sure you're not going to regret it tomorrow."

"The only thing I regret is that we got interrupted," I say honestly. "Being with him feels…right. In a way I didn't expect."

"I knew it," Lennox says triumphantly. "From the moment you told me about the drive-in date—"

"Extended social interaction," I correct automatically, then laugh at myself. "God, I was so adamant about not calling them dates."

"Because you knew exactly where it was heading." She points her fork at me. "Your body knew before your brain did. Classic."

"Nothing about this is classic."

"I guess not."

I laugh, the tension of the past few days finally easing from my shoulders. It feels good—more than good—to be laughing with my best friend, to be feeling hopeful instead of anxious for the first time in what feels like forever.

"So," Lennox says, passing me a fortune cookie. "Are you and hockey boy officially a thing?"

I break open the cookie, pulling out the slip of paper inside. "'A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.' How appropriate."

"Stop avoiding the question," Lennox prods.

"We're…figuring it out," I say, the words feeling insufficient to describe whatever is happening between Sanderson and me. "Taking it slow. Or at least, that's what we agreed before we nearly tore each other's clothes off."

"Slow is overrated," Lennox declares. "But I'm happy for you." She reaches across to squeeze my hand. "And if anyone gives you shit about dating brothers—including Cade—they'll have to deal with me."

"Thank you," I say, blinking back the sudden moisture in my eyes. "For being supportive. For not judging."

"Please," she scoffs, but her smile is genuine. "Who am I to judge anyone's love life? Last year I made out with twins at the same party."

"You did not!"

"I absolutely did. Different times of night, but still. Not my finest moment." She gathers the empty takeout containers, stacking them neatly. "But enough about my questionable choices. Are you two going public with this, or keeping it on the down-low for now?"

I consider the question. "Down-low, definitely. At least until we figure out what this is. And Cade already knows, which complicates things."

"The whole campus knows you were involved in their fight," Lennox points out. "But I get it. Privacy first."

She glances at her watch and sighs. "I should go. I promised to video chat with my mom tonight."

"Thanks for dinner," I say, walking her to the door. "And for…not freaking out about Sanderson."

"Are you kidding? This is the most exciting thing to happen all semester." She hugs me tightly. "There’s much more passion and sparks than there was with Cade."

After she leaves, I clean up the remaining dinner mess, straighten my rumpled bedspread, and gather the books that were casualties of my moment with Sanderson. My body still feels charged, hyperaware, like every nerve ending is just below the surface of my skin.

I change into pajamas, removing the inside-out shirt with an embarrassed laugh, and settle on my bed with my phone. I should study, should get back to my Bio Ethics notes, but all I can think about is Sanderson—his hands, his mouth, the look in his eyes when I kissed him.

On impulse, I call my mom. She answers on the third ring, the familiar sounds of her evening routine in the background—the news playing softly, the clinking of a spoon against her nightly teacup.

"Hannah Banana! What a nice surprise. What are you doing?"

Just hearing her voice centers me, grounds me in a way nothing else can. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Well, I'm always happy to hear yours. How are finals going? Are you still living in the library?"

"Actually, I've been studying in my room lately," I say, smiling at her instinctive understanding of my habits. "And they're going well. Almost done with Bio Ethics."

"That's my girl. Always ahead of schedule." The pride in her voice warms me. "And how are things otherwise? Any drama I should know about?"

I laugh, the sound slightly hysterical even to my own ears. Drama? Just a little. Accidentally sleeping with one brother, dating the other, witnessing their public fistfight, and now making out with the wrong brother again. Just a typical day in the life of Hannah.

"Nothing worth mentioning," I lie, then immediately feel guilty. "Actually, there is something."

"I'm listening," she says, her tone shifting to that perfect blend of interested and non-judgmental that she's perfected over the years.

"I'm sort of…seeing someone," I begin cautiously.

"Oh! That's wonderful, honey." She sounds genuinely pleased. "Is it that young man you were dating before? The quiet one who's studying business?"

"No, not Cade," I say, the name feeling strange on my tongue. "It's…someone else. It's new. We're taking it slow."

That last part is technically true, or at least it was until about an hour ago. I decide not to mention that part.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. You deserve someone special." She pauses, and I know she's debating whether to push for more details. "Is he good to you?"

The question brings tears to my eyes. It's so simple, so fundamental, and yet it cuts straight to the heart of everything.

"Yeah," I say softly. "He is. He makes me laugh. He listens—really listens—when I talk. He planned this amazing date at an animal sanctuary because I once mentioned wanting to be a vet."

"That’s so thoughtful," Mom says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"He is. It's just…complicated."

"Life usually is, sweetheart." She sighs, and I hear the creak of her settling into her favorite armchair. "But sometimes the complicated things are the ones most worth pursuing."

"That's what I'm starting to think too."

We talk for a while longer, about her garden, about my upcoming exams, about nothing and everything. By the time we hang up, I feel more settled, more certain. My mom has always had that effect on me—helping me find my center without even trying.

Just as I'm about to return to studying, my phone buzzes with a series of rapid notifications from the group chat.

Greta: HANNAH PORTER. Why am I hearing from Tiff in my poli-sci class that you are banging Sanderson Connolly???

Finley: WHAT?? The hockey player? Cade's brother?? Hannah explain yourself immediately!

Lennox: Oh crap, I was hoping to tell her in person...

Greta: You KNEW about this, Lennox??

Lennox: In my defense, I can’t say more lmao.

My heart sinks. So much for keeping things on the downlow. I should have known better—nothing stays secret on this campus for long.

Hannah: It's not what you think.

Finley: So, two brothers WEREN'T fighting over you in the quad days ago?? Days, Hannah!! You’ve been keeping this classified information to yourself? We’re your friends!

My face burns. Shit, she’s right. I’ve been too caught up in being judged that I didn’t let anyone in.

Greta: Spill. The. Tea. NOW.

I hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What can I possibly say? The truth is too complicated, too personal to share in a group chat. But these are my friends. They deserve some version of the truth.

Hannah: It's true. I accidentally slept with Sanderson because I thought it was Cade. Turns out Cade was hooking up with Anna. It’s been a huge mess.

Finley: OMG IT'S TRUE, and you’ve been keeping all of this to yourself!? Why wouldn’t you come to us!?

Greta: Holy shit Hannah! That’s insane. Sanderson is hot! Get it girl!

Lennox: WHAT DID I TELL YOU GUYS. Our little hermit is coming out of her shell!

I groan, burying my face in my pillow again, but I can't help the smile that forms. Despite the teasing, I know my friends support me. Their excitement, while embarrassing, comes from a place of love.

Hannah: I didn’t know how to handle it. (crying emoji)

Greta: I expect FULL details at breakfast tomorrow when we all meet up for our little coffee date.

Finley: Yes! Coffee, match, 9am, you better be there!

Lennox: And maybe fix your shirt before you come.

Hannah: Oh my god.

Lennox: We’re excited!

Greta: Yeah, dating a hockey player is huge! Like where do those guys even hang out?

Finley: Yeah, where do I find one?

I blush, regretting not telling them sooner. I can’t believe the gossip is still spreading around after all these days. But I know my closest friends are not interested in campus drama.

I set my phone aside, pull my textbook back onto my lap, and try to focus on Bio Ethics. But my mind keeps drifting to Sanderson—to the feel of his hands on my skin, the taste of his lips.

I want to see him.