Page 18

TWELVE

AUGUSTE

The moment we get back home, Courtney heads straight toward the stairs.

She’s still partly dazed from the nap she had on the way home from the restaurant the team and some staff met up at after we left Disneyland.

Coach left early which made it easy to get Courtney back in my car. She was out like a light before long.

Now she’s trudging up each step like it’s a marathon all on its own, and I’m right there next to her.

No talk. No extra words.

I tell myself to let her go.

To call it a day when we get to the elevators.

But I’m getting in the elevator with her before I even know what I’m doing. Samson’s leash loose in my grip, the little guy’s excited like he knows exactly where we’re headed. Home.

Courtney turns as the lift comes to a stop. "You stalking me again?"

I cock a brow. “You gonna file a report?”

She smirks while she backs out. “Maybe. Might include something about how you scream like a baby on Thunder Mountain .”

“I didn’t scream.”

“Sure. That wasn’t you high-pitched shrieking beside me.”

I flash her a grin. “You're imagining things, Bambi.”

Her mouth twitches at the nickname, but she doesn’t stop walking. She unlocks her door. Pushes it open. Hesitates.

Then she glances over her shoulder.

“Want to come in for a little?”

I nod once. Follow her in without a word .

Courtney disappears down the hall, and I take a seat on the couch, flipping through the book on the coffee table to see where she’s at. Samson hops up beside me, spinning in a circle before flopping down with a contented huff.

The apartment smells like her.

Sweet. Clean. Something citrusy and warm lingers in the background as I lean back on her couch like it’s mine.

Because some part of me is starting to wish it was. That I didn’t have to leave.

Ten minutes later, Courtney walks out—hair damp, skin flushed, wearing tiny shorts and a t-shirt that’s too many sizes too big.

“Sorry, I was all sweaty and gross from today.”

My throat tightens as she pads barefoot into the kitchen like it’s nothing. Like I’m not burning a hole in the cushion just trying to keep my hands to myself.

“I have popsicles,” she says over her shoulder, grabbing the freezer door.

I stand. Cross the room in two strides with Samson hot on my heels.

Courtney turns. Eyes widening when she finds me in front of her.

Close.

Too close.

“I had fun today,” she murmurs like she doesn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah, it was.”

Court smiles, her eyes dropping to my lips.

All I can tell myself is fuck it as I grip her hips, bringing her flush to me. She smells delicious, like ripe peaches and sunshine.

“You have no idea,” I say, voice low, “how hard it was not to touch you on that ride.”

Her breath catches.

When she licks her lips, I amble forward, pressing her back into the refrigerator.

I let my hand trail up her bare thigh.

Higher up to her bare waist when she doesn’t stop me.

Not with words.

Not with breath.

Not even when I lean in and press my mouth just beneath her jaw.

“I want you, Court,” I murmur. “So fucking bad.”

She exhales, shaking her head. But her hands grip my shirt like she’s ready to fight me for it .

“You can’t,” she whispers back.

I brush my nose down her neck, inhaling her beautiful scent all the way to the depths of my lungs until it burns.

Pulling back, I nod. “I know.”

Her laugh is hoarse, tinged with disappointment as she pushes a popsicle into my chest. “We can be friends. Stay friends? Right?”

I don’t answer.

Because I don’t know if it’s possible to just be friends with Courtney.

All I know is—if this is a line, I’m already over it.

And I’m not going back.

We didn’t plan it.

Not really.

But somehow, we end up here—side by side on the couch, lights dimmed low, a movie flickering across the screen while the city hums softly beyond Courtney’s balcony.

Her thick hair’s still damp from the shower. Her curls tickle my jaw now she’s curled up next to me, blanket pulled up to her chin, a bowl of popcorn resting between us like some unspoken peace treaty.

I’m not even sure what movie we’re watching. Some historical romance she mumbled was her comfort pick. I said yes before she finished the title because I just want to be near her.

Courtney’s shoulder brushes mine every time she shifts. Her legs are tucked under her. Her pinkie finger keeps brushing mine when she reaches for more popcorn.

It’s a quiet kind of torture. The best kind.

About halfway through, I feel her head tip against my shoulder. It’s the most natural thing in the world. And I savor the feeling of her so close.

When I glance down, Courtney’s eyes are closed. Her breathing is slow. Even.

My tired girl is asleep with Sammy right next to her.

A slow ache builds in my chest. Something warm and dangerous.

Gently, I tilt my head and press a kiss to her forehead. Then higher, brushing my lips to the healing scab where I nailed her with a puck on her first day.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, so quiet I’m not even sure I meant to say it out loud .

Courtney doesn’t stir until I shift, easing her head off my shoulder and onto my lap, brushing her curls out of the way so they don’t catch.

Sammy crawls right on top of her, nuzzling into her chest.

Lucky bastard. I ruffle his ears at the same time as Court mumbles something, half-asleep, and I stroke the back of my fingers across her cheek.

“Go back to sleep, Snow,” I murmur, voice below a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Courtney sighs. Settling deeper into me.

I don’t move.

Not for hours.

Just sit here, fingers tangled in her hair, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. The way her lips part in sleep. The way her arm drapes protectively over the puppy now curled into her side.

She’s soft in sleep. So different from the fire she throws at me when she’s awake. Still the same girl. Still the same energy.

Just quiet.

Open.

Unguarded.

And I get to be the one who sees her like this.

When her breathing deepens again and her body goes completely slack, I move.

Carefully.

Gently.

I lift her into my arms, whispering a half-hearted curse at how goddamn perfect she fits into my chest and feels against me.

Courtney murmurs something into my shoulder as I carry her to the bedroom and then lay her down. Slowly, I pull the blanket up over her, so not to disturb the way Samson curls up beside her again like a little sentinel.

And then I just stand there for a second.

Watching. Like an idiot. Like a guy who doesn’t know how the fuck we’re meant to just stay friends.

Finally, I lean down. Pressing my mouth to her temple one last time.

“Good night, Snow White,” I whisper.

And then I walk out before I do something stupid.

Like stay.